


Speculum Sanguinem

by cypheroftyr, The_Arkadian



Series: Reflections [6]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: AU, AU Kirkwall, Eluvian shenanigans, Ghosts, M/M, Mirror Universes, dead mages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:58:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 251,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypheroftyr/pseuds/cypheroftyr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Arkadian/pseuds/The_Arkadian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strange ghost who appears to be a Hawke from yet another Kirkwall starts haunting both Arden and Invictus. How can you stop a ghost who can span across the Fade?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Arden threw his staff down on the bed and crossed to the wardrobe, shaking his head as he loosened his belt then shrugged off his muddy, blood-soaked robes.

“That could have gone better,” he sighed as he kicked the damp, stained clothing over towards the corner. He pulled at the clasps of his tunic, stripping it off and tossing it over to join the robes. He grimaced at the blood soaking through the left sleeve of his linen shirt.

“You should have told me you were hurt, Arden!” growled Fenris as he paused in the act of stripping off his own armour and crossed to stand at Arden’s side. He took the injured arm carefully in his hands, peeling back the ripped edges of the shirt to frown at the messy wound beneath. “Anders should have been with us.”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” argued Arden as he began to undo the buttons of his shirt one-handed. “Help me take this off, will you?”

Fenris brushed his hand aside, and Arden stood still as the white-haired elf undid the buttons then helped him carefully peel the shirt off, easing the sleeve carefully past the gash in Arden’s left bicep.

“That’s more than a flesh wound, Arden,” growled Fenris. “ _Venhedis_ , you take such risks sometimes. What was it?”

“One of those dragon hatchlings; it slipped in on my blind side as we were taking out the others,” replied Arden, glancing down at the gory mess.

Fenris fetched the pitcher of water and the washing bowl and set them on the desk then gestured to the chair. “Sit,” he ordered.

Arden made his way to the chair and dropped into it gracelessly, leaning his right arm on the desk as he presented the other arm for Fenris’ ministrations. As the elf poured water into the bowl Arden gestured, heating it with a brief surge of magic. Fenris grunted thanks then began cleansing the wound.

“This would not have happened had Anders been with us,” he grumbled as he worked.

“I told you, he’s been busy with the mage underground,” replied Arden wearily. “We’ve cleared hatchlings out of the Bone Pit before; this was just supposed to be a routine job.”

“Nothing is ever ‘routine’ around you, Arden Hawke,” replied Fenris acerbically as he dropped the blood-stained cloth into the bowl then patted the wound dry with a square of clean linen.

Arden glanced at the wound then called upon his power reserves, laying his right hand over the raw flesh as he channeled healing magic into it. The skin slowly covered over the wound, fresh and pink, tissue-thin at first then slowly thickening as Arden let the magic flow into the wound before letting his hand drop. “That will do for now,” he sighed, tired. “I’ll have Anders look at it later.”

“See that you do,” replied Fenris tersely as he set to bandaging the barely-healed flesh. He gathered up the bowl of water and the bloodied cloths then with a frown at Arden to stay put, he left the room.

Arden sighed. Rising, he made his way to the wardrobe and reached for a clean shirt. A flash of movement, a blur of dark red - almost the colour of blood - just in the corner of his field of vision made him pause and glance round.

The mirror in the corner reflected only the room. Arden stared at it for several heartbeats. Just as he turned away, there was the flash of blood red again and he whirled in time to see a shadowy figure with waist-length red hair dart across the mirror - a tall man with light olive skin, dressed in dark grey.

Arden whirled and stared behind him, but he was alone. He stared back at the mirror.

It was empty.

Fenris returned to the room and paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of Arden standing still in the middle of the room, the shirt hanging forgotten in his hand as he stared wild-eyed at the empty mirror.

“Arden?” rumbled the elf quietly.

Arden glanced back at his elven lover. “It’s happening again,” he whispered.

Fenris crossed swiftly to the mirror, his emerald eyes scanning it swiftly before he turned to the human mage with a frown. “I see nothing in the glass,” he said quietly.

Arden stared at him, then down at the shirt in his hands.

“Come, beloved,” said Fenris gently. “You are tired. You should come and eat, then rest.”

Arden lifted his head and made as if to speak, then shook his head with a look of resignation as he pulled on the shirt. “As you wish,” he shrugged. He glanced back over his shoulder at the empty mirror as Fenris nudged him from the room.

 

**

 

Invictus was enjoying a rare, quiet night at home with Fenris. He’d taken a bath and was in front of the vanity with Fenris behind him, massaging his neck and shoulders as they did nothing more than chat aimlessly. The mage opened his eyes to look at their reflection but fell back when he glimpsed a red haired man staring back at him.

“Please tell me you see this too,” he asked his elven  lover.

Fenris raised an eyebrow, his hands stilling upon the mage’s neck. “I see... you, myself behind you, and the room behind us.”

“Fuck, I saw...I saw the same red headed guy we saw in the Eluvian, just for a moment. But he was there and no hole in his chest. I can’t deal with this again, I can’t.”

Fenris frowned as he studied the glass. “There was nothing there, Vic,” he said quietly. “Perhaps you were relaxing a little too much and were falling asleep? It would not be the first time I’d put you to sleep with my hands, love,” the elf smiled as he bent down and kissed the top of Invictus’ head.

“If you say so, let’s just lay down alright?” Vic said as he stood suddenly and turned away from the mirror. He was shaken and wanted away from the mirror.

Fenris pulled away as the mage rose, glancing from Invictus’ troubled face to the mirror. Frowning, he stepped over to the wardrobe and pulled out a cloak, and covered the mirror with the heavy wool fabric before joining Invictus upon the bed.

“Do not think upon it,” he said gently as he stretched himself beside his lover.

“Alright...perhaps you can distract me instead?” Vic said as he turned and faced Fenris.

The elf smiled devilishly. “I’m sure I can think of suitable... distractions,” he purred as he reached for Invictus’ shirt.

“I like your distractions.” Vic said as he pulled at the elf’s vest. “I’ve been a bad champion, not really attentive to my lover. What do you want to do about it?”

The elf rolled over onto his back, pulling the mage with him so that Invictus ended up straddling the elf’s hips. “I have been most shamefully neglected by you, Invictus Endrin Hawke,” he said, his voice deepening as his eyes regarded the mage intensely. “I think this naughty apostate needs to make it up to his master, doesn’t he?”

“Yes...ser.” Vic whined and bared his neck for the elf in an utterly submissive pose. Fenris reached up and cupped his hand around the back of Invictus’ neck, drawing the mage down to him before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh at the base of Invictus’ throat, worrying the skin between his teeth with a low growl. “What are you going to do about it, mage?” he murmured before trailing a tongue along a collarbone then biting down again.

“Whatever you tell me to do...domne.” Vic whispered in the elf’s ear.

Fenris grinned then pushed the mage away. “This cock isn’t going to suck itself,” he growled as he bucked his hips beneath Invictus.

“Yes ser.” Vic settled himself on his knees and tugged at Fenris’ trousers to pull them away. Once the elf was free of his clothing, he wasted no time taking his lover in his mouth from tip to base.

Fenris groaned at the feel of Invictus’ hot wet mouth enclosing his member, slowly swallowing him down, and he threaded his hands into Invictus’ short locks, fingers tightening as he forced the mage’s head down into his groin, hips snapping up to thrust into the warm inviting mouth. “Better,” he purred.

The apostate didn’t speak, instead he hummed in agreement and continued to suck until he was told to do otherwise. He was fully in the game and had no other thought than pleasing his warrior.

Fenris groaned as he felt the heat building in his groin, and abruptly pulled Invictus away from his cock by his hair. “Enough; I wish to be inside you. Turn around, strip and prepare yourself,” he ordered.

Invictus didn’t argue, instead he reached for the oil before he pulled off his sleep shirt and slicked his fingers before he reached back to prep himself. “How...how… do you want me ser?”

His answer was a sharp slap to the left buttock. “Hands and knees and begging.” Fenris’ voice was a low guttural growl.

“Maker… help me.” Vic moaned as he got into position. “Please domne, please.”

He felt two fingers slip into him, curling back with a ‘come hither’ motion that lightly grazed his sweet spot. “What was that, mage?” growled Fenris. “Did you say something?”

“Pl...please… ma..master, take me.” Vic begged.

Fenris added a third finger and began to work his digits in and out of Invictus’ body. “Call that begging?” scoffed the elf. “You can’t want this very much. You have to earn my cock, mage.”

“Please ser, allow me to have your cock. Please, I’ll do anything you tell me.” Vic moaned as he tried to keep himself in check and not come before Fenris even had entered him.

Fenris gave him one last, hard thrust with his fingers that had him gasping in shock before abruptly pulling his hand free and slamming his hard member into the mage’s quivering body, sheathing it fully in his hot, tight flesh in one firm thrust. Snarling a hand into Invictus’ hair and yanking the mage’s head back, he began to rock his hips, thrusting slowly, teasingly in and out of Invictus’ body.

Vic’s hands splayed over the bedding then curled into claws as he arched his back and whimpered. “Oh fuck...oh fuck, please, more please Fenris.”

Fenris’ thrusts sped up then slowed almost agonisingly, the elf drawing himself out almost the full length of his cock before suddenly slamming hard and deep into the mage, pounding into him, fast then slow, fast then slow, the fingers in Invictus’ hair bringing tears to the mage’s eyes, the pain a counterpoint to the exquisite pleasure as Fenris brought him repeatedly to the brink then away again before he could reach climax.

“Beg,” growled Fenris.

“Let me come, please ser… please. I’m yours, please Fenris. Anything you want, maker anything you say I’ll do. Please, any...thing.” his voice raised at a particularly hard thrust from his lover. “Fenris, I’ll do anything for the love of the Maker. anything.”

Fenris’ hand left Invictus’ hip and curled around Invictus’ neglected cock, slowly pumping it in time to the thrusts of his hips. “Are you my good little mage?” he panted.

“Yes, I’m your good little mage. I’m yours, do anything you want to me domne.” Vic screamed as he clenched the bedding between his fingers.

“Come for me,” whispered Fenris into his ear as his fingers worked faster, his thrusts speeding up again.

“Thank you ser…” Vic gasped as he spasmed and would have sagged down to the bedding if not for the hold Fenris had around his waist.

Fenris’ rhythm faltered as he chased his own orgasm, and a moment later he groaned as he came, spending himself inside Invictus. He gave a couple more half-hearted thrusts then collapsed onto his side, pulling Invictus over with him and hugging him as he panted.

Vic didn’t speak, he was too spent for words. Instead he pulled Fenris’ arms around him and told the elf how much he loved him.

Fenris kissed Invictus lightly between the shoulderblades, savouring the salt tang of the sweat that sheened the mage’s body. He glanced around for something to clean them up with then stilled as he glanced over at the mirror.

The cloak no longer covered the glass.

He glanced back at Invictus, then pulled gently out of his lover with another kiss before rolling off the bed. He hastily threw the cloak back over the mirror before returning with cloths and a bowl of water to clean them both up.

He said nothing of the amber eyes that had stared at him briefly from the shadowy figure reflected beyond the other side of the bed.

There was no-one there.

Vic muttered something about bossy elves as he tried to get comfortable and sleep curled around his lover. “Mmm, more later love?”

Fenris kissed him gently upon the temple. “Depends how badly you behave love,” he said quietly, his tone faintly distracted as he glanced over to the shrouded mirror.

“I’ll aim to misbehave then.” Vic turned over and nuzzled at Fenris’ neck. “Does it bother you when ...I call you domne?”

Fenris stared up at the bed canopy, averting his eyes from the mirror as his brow furrowed slightly. “Were it any other... it would feel... strange,” he confessed slowly. “With you however it feels... right.”

“I don’t mind, I just worry it’s crossing a line with you. You do know you can do whatever you want with me and I’d let you.” Vic said quietly before he nipped at the elf’s earlobe and stared at his profile. “Even collar me if you wanted.”

A brief look of pain crossed the elf’s fine features and he shuddered briefly. “No. Not that. That would... I could not do that,” he murmured as he turned his face away. After a moment he glanced back at Invictus. “This is... this is not a thing you wish... is it?” he asked, the green eyes troubled.

“Not if it will distress you love. I don’t mean like a saarebas collar, just a plain leather one. I wanted to try it once, see if I like it. But it clearly bothers you so…we don’t have to.” Vic kissed his cheek and sighed deeply.

“I am sorry, beloved. I am not ready for such a step yet. Forgive me,” breathed the elf as he rolled over to face his lover, cradling Invictus’ face between warm, lyrium-lined palms as he kissed him gently upon the lips. “Sleep. It is late.”

 

**

  


Arden stared around himself as the green light of the Fade flickered around him, shimmering softly like distant sun through deep green waters. He had been dreaming of the Gallows again, but the stone walls had wavered then melted away as he glanced around. Somehow he seemed to have found himself in someone else’s dream. He stared down as the chains around his wrists melted away along with the bruises and blood. He straightened, feeling the swish of robes around his ankles as he turned to stare about himself.

He was standing beside the _vhenendahl_ tree in the alienage. The square was deserted, but as he glanced around he saw a figure walking slowly down the steps that led up into Lowtown. It was a man, similar in height to Arden himself, his long blood-red hair pulled back into a single braid that hung down his back beside the staff slung there. The green light through the tree cast strange shadows over his olive skin as the grey-clad mage strode across the square towards Merrill’s home, seemingly oblivious to Arden’s presence.

As the red-headed mage drew level with Arden, with a shock the blond apostate suddenly recognised him as the strange red-headed mage he had seen in the Eluvian just before Invictus had returned to his own Kirkwall over a year before - but alive and whole, his amber eyes distracted as he paused to glance up at the tree. The mage glanced down at something in his hand.

The arulin’holm.

The red-headed mage seemed to come to some decision, straightening his shoulders as he turned to stride towards Merrill’s house.

“Hawke!” Arden exclaimed.

The other man paused as though hearing something far away. He glanced around with an uncomprehending look. 

“Hawke!” Arden called again, taking a step towards the other Hawke - for he was certain that was who this was: yet another mirror-universe Hawke, like Invictus.

The other Hawke turned slowly and stared around the square, still oblivious to Arden’s presence.

“Tell me this is just a dream,” said a voice behind him. Arden turned.

Invictus Hawke was staring at the red-headed Hawke in disbelief.

“It’s a dream,” agreed Arden. “One we are both sharing.”

Invictus’ eyes snapped to Arden. “You can see me? You’re not a ghost I’ve dreamed up, like him?”

“If I am, then so are you,” replied Arden.

Invictus grasped Arden’s arms tightly. “How is this possible?” he demanded. “Am I in your dream, or are you in mine?”

“I don’t know,” replied Arden. “I was dreaming of the Gallows, but then I found myself here.” He glanced over at the red-headed Hawke who was walking towards Merrill’s house.

The door opened, and suddenly the house, square and everything in it melted away into a chaotic kaleidoscope of colours. Arden stared back at Invictus in alarm as he felt the other Hawke’s grip tighten upon his arms then melt away into smoke.

His eyes snapped open and he drew in breath with a gasp.

He had touched Invictus through the Fade - and there was another Hawke. A red-headed Hawke with an arulin’holm that he was taking to Merrill.

 

**

 

Invictus shot straight up and gasped Arden’s name. “No…Arden.”

Fenris jerked awake, his brands lighting up as he stared around, wild-eyed and disoriented. “Whu... Vic? What was it?” The brands dimmed a little as the elf realised there was no physical threat; he ran a hand through his dishevelled white hair and blinked at the mage.

“A dream, I was in the Fade and somehow I was with Arden and that red headed Hawke I saw earlier. He was giving Merrill something. What the fuck is happening to us?” Vic slowed his breathing and tried to calm down before he panicked both of them.

“Another Hawke?” said Fenris, frowning. “Are you sure it was actually Arden? You were actually in the Fade, not merely dreaming? You thought you saw the red-headed Hawke earlier - could you perhaps have had him on your mind and slipped back into the same dream?” Fenris tilted his head upon one side; though his powers drew upon the Fade, he had only a hazy notion of how the Fade actually worked - mostly drawn from what Invictus himself had told him.

“No, I touched Arden and we both saw him. That same Hawke that was in the Eluvian that held the gem in his chest that got me home from Arden’s world. It was the Fade.” Vic said before he flopped to his back.

“But the Hawke in the Eluvian was dead, was he not? How could he have drawn you both into the same dream in the Fade?” Fenris felt out of his depth. This was the business of mages, which always left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I don’t know. Maybe his spirit is stuck between our world and Arden’s? There might be something he needed to do? I don’t fucking know.” Vic snapped then apologized. “Sorry, I’m kind of freaked out.”

“Vic, I do not know what to suggest or how to help you. I know nothing of such things. Is it possible this red-haired Hawke could be a demon, seeking perhaps to ensnare you in some way?” Fenris ran a hand over his face slowly, trying to rein in his latent feelings of frustration.

“It’s possible, Maker anything is possible with us it seems like. Well, I’m not sleeping any more tonight.” Vic said as he stared up at the bed’s canopy.

Fenris glanced over at the window; the sky was still dark, a patch of moonlight illuminating a square on the dark red carpet. “Vic, you need sleep. As do I. There are hours until morning.”

“I’ll try but no guarantees. If I can’t rest I’ll go to my study.” He grumbled even as he closed his eyes again.

Fenris lay down and turned his face into his pillow; shortly afterwards his breathing smoothed out into the peaceful cadence of sleep. Invictus didn’t think he’d be able to sleep but between one heartbeat and the next he seemed to have drifted off, for the next thing he knew it was morning and Fenris was nudging his shoulder.

“Breakfast is ready,” the elf smiled.

“Thanks, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Vic replied, his voice thick from sleep.

Fenris nodded. “Don’t lie abed too long or there’ll be nothing left; whatever it is Orana’s baked this morning smells very good.” He bent down and kissed Invictus upon the forehead then left him to rouse himself.

“Greedy elf.” Invictus said even as he rose and got ready for the day. He came down and ate with a pleased sigh, content as always with Orana’s scones and Bohdan’s hearty fare.

There was a sudden scream from the drawing room accompanied by the sound of a loud crack, followed by loud barking from Malum. Fenris leapt to his feet, exchanging a glance with Invictus before they both sprinted to the drawing room.

Orana was staring at the mirror over the fireplace with a look of horror. The mirror had cracked from side to side, and something dark and viscous seemed to be seeping from the crack, filling the air with the coppery tang of blood.

“Oh Messeres, I was only dusting the lintel when it suddenly cracked! I didn’t break it, I swear!” Orana cried as Malum continued to bark furiously at the mirror.

“Get it out of here, get it out right now Fenris.” Vic said as he backed away from the mirror.

Fenris’ brands blazed into light, flooding the room with incandescent blue-white fire as he leapt towards the mirror. He lashed out, and the cracked mirror shattered, shards falling to the hearthstone below as Orana screamed.

And nothing happened.

Fenris cast around for some sign or feel of the enemy but there was nothing there; only broken glass. The elf turned and stared around the room as his lyrium lines faded. “There is... nothing here,” he said, his voice hushed and uncertain. The mabari circled the room, sniffing warily, before bounding over to Invictus, wagging his stub of a tail.

“That mirror was bleeding Fenris, you saw it. Fuck...no, not this weird shit again. I hate to say it, but we might need Anders to check. He has an affinity with spirits I don’t.” Vic had backed up almost out of the room in his haste to leave the foyer.

Fenris pushed Orana out of the room. “Orana, go, stay with Bodhan in the servants’ quarters. Do not come into the main house unless one of us tells you to. If anything strange occurs, do not look back but flee at once.”

Orana nodded, shaken and white-faced as she fled the room. “Malum, protect Orana!” ordered Fenris. The mabari glanced towards the foyer where his master had fled, then whuffed once and trotted after Orana. Fenris followed Invictus out.

“Much though I hate to say it, I must concur,” agreed the elf. “Let us go quickly and get this over with at once.”

  


**

 

“I don’t understand,” said Anders slowly as he glanced to Arden and Fenris before looking back at the dark-haired man. “You say your son has already been made Tranquil?”

The man nodded. “I need you to get him out for me.”

“But... why didn’t you come to me sooner, before they performed the Rite?” asked Anders, throwing his hands up in frustration. “It seems pointless to rescue him after the fact. Much though I hate to say it, your son is probably better off being looked after by the Circle now he’s Tranquil.”

“I will pay you well to get him out,” replied the man stubbornly. “I want him safe with me. I will pay good gold.”

Anders sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The Underground takes huge risks with each mage they liberate. I’m not sure they dare take those risks for one who has already been made Tranquil.” He shook his head, though his eyes were sympathetic.

“We’ll get your son out,” said Arden suddenly.

“Hawke, wait -” began Anders, but Arden cut him off with a stare before turning back to the man.

“What is your son’s name?” he asked gently.

“Hal,” replied the man. Arden nodded.

“We will get Hal out. You have my word.”

The man bowed, a look of gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you, Champion,” he said. “His mother died four years ago. Hal is all I have left.”

“I understand,” nodded Arden. “I’ll send word when I have news.”

The man bowed again then took his leave of them. Anders groaned as the door of the clinic closed behind him. “Arden, why-” he began.

Arden sighed and leaned against a table. “Anders, did it not occur to you that perhaps the man simply wants the chance to bury his own son?”

“Bury? But he-” Anders broke off as understanding dawned, and a look of grief crossed his face. “Of course. Like Karl.”

Fenris silently laid a hand on Anders’ shoulder, squeezing it gently as Anders bowed his head. “It won’t be easy,” remarked the elf as he glanced at Arden.

“Easier than you might think,” replied Arden. “The Tranquil won’t be as closely guarded as the mages; why would they be? They pose no threat and are hardly likely to take it into their own heads to try and escape, after all.”

“You are resolved on this?” asked Fenris. Arden nodded.

“The underground won’t help us,” warned Anders. The other mage merely grinned and pushed himself away from the table as he straightened.

“I’m sure we can handle it fine ourselves,” he replied confidently. “Come on, let’s head to the Hanged Man; I want Sebastian in on this one, and Varric mentioned he was expecting a visit from him relating to further news about Starkhaven.”

“Why Sebastian?” asked Fenris as they left the clinic and headed towards Lowtown.

“Because he has the inside info we’ll need to track Hal down, and I think he’ll be our best chance to get him out,” replied Arden. “With any luck, Sebastian can just walk him right out of the Gallows under the noses of the Templars with no-one the wiser. No-one would question a brother of the Chantry commandeering one of the Tranquil for some errand or other.”

“And you trust him?” asked Anders dubiously.

“I trust his word,” replied Arden neutrally.

They walked in silence for a while. Anders and Fenris exchanged a glance behind Arden’s back, and then the elven warrior dropped behind a little as the blond apostate moved up closer to Arden.

“You were very restless last night,” he said quietly.

“Bad dreams,” said Arden tersely in a tone that indicated he didn’t want to discuss it.

“You kept calling ‘Hawke’,” pushed Anders.

Arden halted and stared at the apostate. “What else did I say?” he said quietly.

Anders stared at his feet. “You mentioned the arulin’holm. And Invictus,” he added quietly as he glanced up to gauge Arden’s reaction.

“Just a bad dream,” repeated Arden quietly.

“Fenris tells me you saw something in the mirror yesterday evening,” said Anders. Arden turned and began walking again, the apostate having to jog briefly to catch up before falling into stride beside the Champion.

“I was tired. My eyes were playing tricks.”

Anders grabbed Arden’s wrist, pulling him to a halt. “I found this on your pillow,” he said quietly, pulling something from one of his belt pouches. Arden squinted at it, and held out his hand.

Anders laid a single long blood-red hair in his palm.

Arden stared at the hair as Fenris drew level with them both.

“What’s going on, love?” asked Anders gently as Arden reached out and touched the hair with hesitant fingers before plucking it from Anders’ palm. Slowly, he told them both of the dream he had had the previous night.

“And you say Invictus was also there - present, in the Fade, not just an artifact of your own dream?” said Fenris when he had finished.

“It wasn’t my dream,” said Arden.

“Mages are generally aware in the Fade,” explained Anders. “We can tell when we’ve stepped from our own dream into someone else’s. Generally we can only observe what’s going on though - we can’t change anything in the dream ourselves, only our own dreams.”

“Unless you’re somniari, like Feynriel,” added Arden. “His is a very rare talent though - very few are born and most somniari go mad and fall to demons long before they reach the pinnacle of their powers. Feynriel was the first one to reach adulthood in several generations, according to Keeper Marethari.”

“Do you think this other red-headed Hawke could be a _somniari_ , love?” asked Anders.

“More like a demon that has taken this form to prey upon Arden and Invictus for its own ends,” snorted Fenris.

“Strangest demon I ever encountered if so,” replied Arden as he resumed walking, the two men falling into step on either side of him. “It seemed oblivious to my presence, like any other dreamer in the Fade would be, and all it does is leave a red hair on my pillow? I’ve never known demons to be particularly subtle, and certainly not to ignore a mage who’s standing right in front of them.”

They climbed to the top of a winding stair, followed the narrow path at the top around a corner and joined the main thoroughfare down into Lowtown proper. Seagulls were wheeling and crying over the docks as they turned to the right and followed the road.

“Hawke!”

Arden glanced round then smiled as Elegance waved to him. They made their way over to her, Anders rolling his eyes behind Arden’s back as Fenris tried not to smile. Arden, oblivious, walked over to the tall strawberry blonde and took her outstretched hands in greeting.

“You’ve been neglecting me, Hawke!” she chided. “My wares not good enough for you anymore?”

“Things have been quiet, Elegance, that’s all,” shrugged Arden. “I have something for you though.” He pulled out a pouch from a bag on his belt and tugged the drawstrings open. Elegance made a little noise of delight as she took the pouch of reagents from Arden.

“It’s just a sample of what I found recently,” shrugged Arden. He pulled a strip of paper from his pocket. “This is a list of the locations I found them. If the quality is what you were looking for....”

“I’ll have to test them, but this is looking very promising, Hawke,” nodded Elegance as she took the strip of paper and scanned the list. “Oh, your Dalish elf friend was asking after you earlier.”

“Merrill? Did she say why?” asked Arden, curious.

“Only that she needed to speak to you about a mirror. She was also babbling something about grey kittens and daisies,” shrugged Elegance as she closed the pouch and tucked it away in her skirts. “Thank you for these, Hawke, they look to be exactly what I was after.”

“Glad to be of service, Elegance,” smiled Arden as they took their leave.

“What can the witch want now?” wondered Fenris as they continued towards the Hanged Man.

“No idea,” replied Arden. “We’ll go call on her after we’ve spoken to Varric and Sebastian.”

“I don’t like this, Arden,” said Anders, shaking his head as they made their way down another short flight of stairs. “If Sebastian decides not to help us, he could blow the whole thing wide open with a word. What makes you think you can trust him? He could easily use it to set a trap. Or Meredith would.”

“He... owes me,” replied Arden quietly. “I think we can trust him to keep us out of Meredith’s hands.”

“You are too trusting,” growled Anders, shaking his head. “You and I have both suffered at the templar’s hands; why would you willingly risk placing yourself back there?”

Arden halted and stared at Anders. “Why would _you_?” he riposted. “I am putting myself in no more danger than you do, every time you snatch yet another mage out of the gallows under their very noses. Why is this any different? Why is it OK for you to risk your freedom but not me?”

“Because Kirkwall doesn’t need me the way it does you, love,” said Anders in quiet desperation. “Your continued freedom and success gives hope to every mage in this city. If I fall, I’m just one more martyr for the cause - but you? You give the cause hope. If you die, we all do. You’re the only reason Meredith hasn’t openly seized power and declared martial rule in this city. The minute you fall, she’ll invoke the Rite of Annulment on every mage in Kirkwall, I’m sure of it.”

“Nonsense,” said Arden, though his tone was uncertain. “She can’t do that without authorisation from the Divine herself, and that would take weeks to be granted - assuming she could ever persuade Elthina to go along with it.”

“Elthina will do nothing,” argued Anders. “She’ll stand by and watch this city rip itself apart then claim it’s all the Maker’s will whilst we all drown in blood together.” Anders’ voice dripped with bitterness. “She cares nothing for justice or what is right and good. She’d stand by and bless you as Meredith puts the noose around our throats herself!”

“Calm yourself, Anders,” said Fenris quietly. “You’re drawing attention.”

Anders panted, staring down at his hands as the cracks of blue-white fire slowly died away. “Oh Maker... no....” he breathed, clutching at his head. “It’s... it’s so hard, there are so few of us and the templars grow stronger every day. More and more Tranquil even with Alrik dead. It’s so hard....”

Arden caught hold of the blond apostate by the shoulders and shook him lightly until Anders lifted his head and returned his gaze. “Anders, Meredith will not hang us. We’ll get Hal out, and it will be OK. Meredith can’t annul the Circle. We’ll find a way to break it, I promise.”

“I would drown the world in fire to keep you safe,” breathed Anders.

“Don’t martyr yourself,” whispered Arden as he held him close. “I need you alive, with me. WIth us.” His eyes pleaded silently with Fenris, and the elf engulfed them both in a hug.

After a moment, Anders pulled away and shakily straightened his hair. “I’m OK,” he said quietly.

“You are sure?” replied Fenris dubiously. “Perhaps you and I should return to the estate; Arden can handle Sebastian alone.”

“No,” said Anders firmly. “I’ll be fine.”

Arden stared at him then nodded. “If you’re sure,” he answered.

“I am. Let’s get this over with.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are changing in Kirkwall, both of them. There's also bleeding mirrors and hungry apostates to contend with.

Anders glanced up at the knock on the clinic door. The lanterns weren’t lit; no-one should be calling at this early hour. Setting down the pestle and mortar before wiping his hands on a rag, he reached for his staff as he made his way to the door. 

Cracking the door open, he stared at Invictus and Fenris.

“Hawke. What brings you here?” he asked cautiously.

Vic had the good grace to look ashamed as he hung his head and spoke. “We need your help, please.”

Anders stared at him. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just slam this door in your face, Invictus Hawke,” he said flatly.

“I’ve no reason other than I’ve swallowed my pride and come to ask for your help. You saw how bad it was while you were...gone.” Vic deflected.

“There’s still a dent in my wall from your last visit,” remarked Anders quietly.

“I know, I’m sorry. But weird stuff is happening again, I saw Arden in the Fade and yet another Hawke. Please, do I have to fucking beg on your doorstep? Will that make you happy?” Vic asked as he finally looked at the other mage.

“Arden?” A note of alarm crept into Anders’ voice and the door edged slightly wider. “Is he... Maker.” He stared at Hawke, eyes clouded with indecision, then pushed the door open. “You’d better come in.” He turned away and led Hawke inside.

Vic entered and leaned against a nearby pillar, his expression tense as he filled Anders in on everything, including the bleeding mirror. He frowned slightly as he noted how Fenris had gone quiet and hadn’t spoken once.

Anders paced as Hawke spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger and frowning as Invictus described the mirror. “And Arden seemed... well? Unharmed? You’re sure it was him?”

“Yes, he was fine. Looked shocked to see me in the Fade but he was fine.” Invictus snapped, annoyed that with all he’d said, Anders only seemed concerned with Arden’s well being.

Anders turned away, rubbing his eyes tiredly with one hand as he made his way to the small curtained-off alcove where he kept his own meagre personal belongings, including a few precious magical grimoires. He re-emerged with a couple of books in one hand which he set down upon his desk before seating himself and starting to leaf through the first one, a slim tome that from the look of the characters inscribed upon the cover was an illicit book from Tevinter.

“Demonic hauntings... they don’t normally manifest like this, not straight away, though there was a case... yes, here it is.” He gestured to the page then looked up and frowned at the other mage. “Are you going to stand there and glower? You can’t read it from the other side of the room.” 

Invictus walked over and peered cautiously at the book, his face drawn in a scowl. “My Old Tevene is rusty, what does it say?”

“The passage isn’t entirely clear, but it describes what seems to have been a haunting in a Magister’s family. The twin of the head of the household died - it doesn’t say how - but lingered somehow, haunting the household - visions in mirrors, blood dripping from the walls, mirrors cracking when there was no-one in the room - things like that. The passage is fairly clear that it wasn’t a demon in any usual sense of the word but it’s unclear how they resolved the haunting.”

“Wonderful, just what I don’t need after all the weird shit I’ve been through in the last year. Anything else, or do you need to see the mirror?” Vic said tiredly.

Anders shrugged as he closed the book. “I can look, but I doubt I’d be able to sense anything more than you or Fenris,” he admitted uncomfortably. “I... don’t seem to have quite the same touch any more since... since I returned.”

That got a raised eyebrow from both elf and mage. “What do you mean?”

Anders’ eyes dropped to the book. “I... don’t have Justice anymore,” he said quietly. “He was stripped away from me. I’m just a spirit healer now.” He glanced at Fenris. “I’m not an abomination.” There was a faint bitter note to his voice.

“How did that happen?” Invictus asked in shock.

Anders slumped over the desk with his head in his hands. “Why would you even care?” he muttered. “It happened. I would have thought you’d be pleased instead of wanting all the sordid details. It means I’m no longer a threat, after all. There won’t be another Ella.” He closed his eyes. 

Vic sucked in a breath to keep the sharp words from coming off his tongue. He’d learned a hard lesson about how much he needed Anders while the mage was in the other Kirkwall. “Don’t assume such things about me. I’ve changed as well while you were away. Regardless, I would appreciate your help, it’s beyond me.” 

Fenris watched the two men silently. It had taken every ounce of control to bite down any reaction at the revelation the healer was no longer an abomination, but the two men had too much history and animosity between them that they needed to work out. Much though he hated to admit it, Fenris knew they needed Anders - and Invictus would get his agreement to help far more readily if the elf did not further antagonise him. 

The mage’s wallowing in self-pity over losing his pet demon was grating, but Fenris held his tongue. As Invictus darted a glance at him, the elf shook his head and turned away. He would not risk this turning into yet another argument.

Anders stayed silent, head bowed. Then slowly he straightened. “It always comes to this,” he said quietly. “Always something you want from me.” He pushed away from the desk and turned to face the other mage. “Always take, take, take. I’m not sure I have anything left to give.” He brushed passed Invictus and reached for his coat, tugging it on slowly before reaching for his staff. He glanced back at Invictus. “I’m not sure you deserve any more chances,” he said quietly. “But I know Arden would give you one. So....” He gestured at the clinic door.

“If you do not wish to help me, then don’t. I don’t want your pity.” Vic snapped then pushed off the pillar. “If anything else strange happens, I’ll let you know. Don’t put yourself out on my account.” the Champion said with a hitch to his voice that he did not like.

Fenris groaned and shook his head.

Anders glared at the other mage. “I am helping you, Andraste damn you to the Void!” He stared at Invictus, breath quickening as his eyes flashed with anger. Amber eyes, that held not a single trace of blue fire - only ordinary, human anger and frustration. “I don’t understand you, Invictus Hawke. You demand, threaten, cajole the help of everyone around you, throwing people aside when they’re no longer of any use to you - yet when someone tries to help, you throw it back in their face with yet more insults. Always, you need this, need that - but to hell with what others need unless it’s useful to your plans. You can’t treat people like that!” His voice dropped. “You can’t treat me like that. Not any more.”

Vic pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm down but his voice still cracked in frustration. “I asked for your help because I didn’t know what else to do Anders. You don't seem like you want to help me, so I don’t want you do it out of some sense of pity or, worse, for someone who isn’t even here. That’s ...that’s almost a worse insult than this. I will say it again, if you want to help me I’d welcome it.” He would not let Anders see him break, not if he could help it.

Anders stepped closer. “Were you in my shoes, what would you do?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know, I’m the asshole everyone hates remember?” Vic laughed bitterly before he wiped at his eyes and tried to keep himself together. “Come with us or not, your choice. I need to go and lay down or something.” Invictus said without looking at his lover or the other mage in the room.

Anders stared at him. “You’ve never asked me what I needed,” he said softly. “Would it really have been so hard?”

Fenris turned and regarded the two men. “What do you require, mage?” he asked reluctantly.

Anders turned and gave him a dark look. “How about you start by using my name?” he suggested with quiet bitterness. “Treat me like an actual human being for once. Novel idea, I know.”

Fenris glanced at Invictus, frowning, then back at Anders. To the apostate’s surprise, he inclined his head. “I apologise... Anders. What do you wish? What do you need?”

Anders blinked. “I... never expected you, of all people, to ask me that,” he said in a small voice.

“Perhaps Invictus is not the only one who has changed,” rumbled Fenris quietly. “Will you help us, Anders? Please? Invictus is....” He glanced at Invictus and shrugged. “Tact does not come easily to either of us. Our need is genuine, even if Invictus’ manner of asking perhaps leaves something to be desired. But ask what you will, and we will try to supply it, if it is within our power to do so.”

Anders blinked. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say more than two words to me that weren’t insults or threats,” he said, bemused. He shook himself. “I... Very well. I’ll come, and I’ll do what I can.”

“And your requirements?”

“A good meal would be a nice place to start,” replied Anders wistfully.

“I’ll have Bodahn prepare something nice for us all. Is there anything else you require Anders?” Vic said quietly.

Anders looked down at the floor for a moment, then glanced up. “Somewhere safe to sleep for a couple of nights. The templars have been raiding Darktown more often lately. I just need some decent food and a chance to rest.”

“I’ll have him make up the guest room for you. Anything else?” Invictus asked wearily.

Anders shook his head. “I’ll keep out of your way once we’re done with the mirror,” he promised.

“Alright, do you need to bring anything with you? Change of clothes or something?” Vic asked as he stretched and grimaced at the noise his joints made.

“Let me just throw some stuff together,” said Anders, ducking back behind the curtain again. He stowed the books away in their hidden niche then pulled out a small bag, throwing in a spare shirt and smallclothes. He carefully packed his mother’s pillow in on top and added a few vials of lyrium, a small dark glass bottle and the book he’d been reading recently - a small treatise on Tevinter herblore. With a last glance round the small alcove, he emerged and nodded. “I’m ready,” he said. “Do you... would you like me to do something about your back?” he added, hesitantly.

“Not right now, thank you. I just want to go home.” Vic knew he sounded like a petulant child but he had hit his limit for the day and wanted his comfortable bed and his lover next to him. “I’ll go on ahead so Bodahn can have lunch started, I’ll see you at the estate.” with that he left so he could take a shortcut and get home then in bed before Fenris or Anders saw him crumble.

Fenris regarded Invictus with a worried look, but he merely grunted to Anders and jerked his head at the door. Anders nodded and followed the elf out, pausing only to lock the doors carefully behind him. The mage was quiet as they made their way up into Lowtown, passing through the marketplace as they headed up into Hightown. Fenris found himself making detours without fully realising it to avoid the various templar patrols along the way. Anders said nothing, but the elf was aware of the mage darting him a grateful glance the third time it happened. Fenris silently told himself he was merely avoiding irritating delays. He even almost believed himself.

He let them in to the house and gestured to the main reception room. “The mirror over the fireplace,” he said gruffly.

“Has anyone touched it?” asked Anders as he dropped his bag carefully beside the door, mindful of the lyrium vials, and unslung his staff.

“No-one,” replied Fenris. “I ordered Orana into the servants’ quarters with Bodahn and ordered them to remain there until told otherwise. The dog is with them.”

Anders nodded and advanced cautiously into the room, glancing around. He took in the glass upon the floor, circling it cautiously before beginning his inspection of the mantelpiece.

Fenris left him to it and headed upstairs to check on Invictus. He stuck his head around the bedroom door. “Beloved?”

“Yes?” came the hoarse reply from under the blankets.

Fenris slipped into the room and made his way to the side of the bed, sitting down on the edge and laying a hand gently on the mound of blankets. “He is downstairs, investigating the mirror.”

“Alright, I’m sorry I just need to be left alone for a bit. Can you get me when lunch is ready?” Vic pulled the covers down just enough to see Fenris.

The elf nodded. “I think-”

Whatever he thought went unspoken as there was a sudden loud yell from the reception room downstairs, followed by a crash. Fenris sprang to his feet, drawing his sword as he sprinted downstairs.

Vic jumped up, his malaise forgotten as he grabbed his staff and followed his lover.

Anders was pressed back against the mantelpiece, holding a bloody hand up in front of him as he stared down at the pool of blood that was spreading from the broken mirror, seeping out from the shattered edges of the shards and slowly hemming him in. His staff was held before him, blazing with blue healing energies; the blood seemed to pause at the edge of the ring of light it cast. He stared up as Fenris and Invictus raced into the room.

“It’s... the blood, it’s...” he stammered. “It’s Arden’s blood. Yours. Hawke’s. I don’t know where it’s coming from, it’s like it’s leaking from the Fade itself. But there’s nothing here except the blood.”

“Ok, everyone out of this room. I’m warding it then I’m going to go upstairs and continue to have a breakdown. No, I can’t deal with anything else bizarre happening to me this year.” Vic backed up after he put down a glyph under the broken mirror.

“I can’t, I’m trapped!” cried Anders, his voice panicky and high. “I can’t get past the blood!” The blond apostate stared down at the slick surface of the blood. It was behaving almost like some living thing, sending out small rivulets like questing tendrils all around him. Wherever he paced in the increasingly-small space in front of the fireplace, the blood seemed to follow, and somehow - with every instinct inside him screaming - he knew that he dare not let that blood touch him. 

He’d called on the healing magic from some inner instinct; blood magic and healing magic were the antithesis of each other. He could feel panic crowding his mind, and shook his head, trying to dispel the feeling as it rose inside to choke him, desperately missing the inner surety and confidence Justice had given him. He knew with some distant part of his mind that it was unlike himself to panic, but the fear rose within him like a roaring tide, driving away rational thought. All he knew was that he dare not, must not let that blood reach him.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit. Try fire, ice, something!” Invictus was nearly hyperventilating over the bloody mirror and all that was going on.

“Pull yourself together, Vic!” hissed Fenris as his lyrium brands lit up in brilliant white fire and his body phased into light. He prowled around the edge of the pool of blood, studying it intently then casting his gaze over the mantelpiece. “Anders, be ready!” he called.

“For what?” cried the trapped apostate as he stared wildly about him at the encroaching blood.

In answer, the elf backed up then took a running leap clean across the pool of blood, leaping high and grasping the edge of the mantelpiece with one hand as he landed, hanging there briefly as he slung the other arm around Anders' waist. Then drawing his legs up to brace them against the marble stone, he hurled them both bodily backwards across the pool of blood.

They hit the floor in a tangle of glowing elf, startled mage and long limbs, rolling away from the shattered mirror to land against Invictus' feet as Fenris phased back into solidity. Anders had curled in upon himself, covering his head with his arms, though he’d retained enough presence of mind to clutch his staff. Fenris disentangled himself, lifting his head to stare at the blood as it lapped across the hearthstone where moments before the mage’s feet had stood.

Invictus cast a crushing prison upon the broken mirror as well as a paralysis glyph before be backed out if the room. "I hope that holds it."

Fenris rose to his feet and reached down for Anders. The mage allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, clutching his staff as he stared at the pool of blood. Fenris pulled him back out of the room and he allowed himself to be guided out, the elf slamming the door shut behind them all.

"I've never seen anything like that," Anders shivered. “It seemed almost... alive. Malevolent.” He glanced down at his bloody hand. He abruptly thrust the hand away from himself and jerked it wildly, trying to shake off the blood. "Get it off, get it off, get it off!" he begged, frantic. He could feel it moving across his skin, slick and cold, sliding over his palm as it coated his fingers, reaching tendrils towards his wrist.

Invictus grabbed him and pulled him to the sink in the kitchen. "Stop squirming," he muttered before he heated the water and took soap and a flannel to Anders hands. “I'm already panicked, all of us can't panic," he added as he cleaned off the other mage’s hand.

Anders was shivering, face pale, and he surrendered to Invictus' ministrations with a faint whimper, leaning heavily against the edge of the sink and bracing himself with his free hand as he held out the bloody hand. “Harder - scrub harder,” he begged. “I can still feel it....”

Invictus scrubbed until Anders’ hand was pink and raw, no trace of blood left. He inspected the pink flesh carefully until he was satisfied it was clean. Once he'd finished with Anders, Vic sat down and tried to calm himself. "What now?"

Anders dropped into a chair and stared at his hand distrustfully. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've never dealt with a haunting before. If there were a demon there, it behaved and felt like no demon I’ve ever encountered.” He shivered. The fear and panic were receding now he was away from the blood, leaving him feeling cold and exhausted, but he was at a loss to explain why he had reacted like that. He’d killed hundreds of demons over the years, but this was like no demon he’d ever encountered. If it had been some kind of fear demon, surely it would have manifested to gloat over his terror and try to elicit some form of deal from him? Yet there had been nothing except the growing pool of blood and the certainty that he must not let it touch him. He stared at his hand again.

“All I know is, the blood seemed to come from nowhere the moment I got close to the mirror shards,” he said slowly. “As though it were leaking out of the Fade itself. The Veil felt very thin and stretched in that room. Maybe..." He glanced up at Invictus. "Maybe we need to go into the Fade. Perhaps find Arden. See if he has any idea how to deal with what we're facing."

"I’d rather not, but if that's the only option I guess we'll have to." Vic glanced at the other mage and the elven warrior with fear.

Fenris shifted uneasily, folding his arms and regarding the two mages with an uncertain expression. "In a dream, you mean?"

"It's the only way I'm going into the Fade, " Vic said uneasily.

"There's no other way apart from that ritual Marethari used, and I wouldn't begin to know how to replicate that," admitted Anders. "But it does mean that we'll have to go without Fenris," he added to Invictus. “I don’t know any way to make him share our dream. You and I can walk freely in the Fade in dreams, but Fenris would just be asleep. We could walk into his dream, but he couldn’t follow us - we’re not somniari like Feynriel was.” He shrugged. “We could use Feynriel’s help,” he reflected quietly. A bitter note crept into his voice as he added, “Shame you handed him over to the templars.” His gaze was on his hand so he didn’t see the guilty look that crossed Invictus’ face.

"Great, can we at least wait until tomorrow? I'd rather not try this when I'm on edge."

Anders nodded. "I feel too shaken to even think of trying right now," he agreed.

"Alright. I'm going back to bed with a bottle of wine in one hand and my staff in the other," Vic said with a tremor to his voice.

"If you'll show me the guest room, I think I'd rather like to do the same," confessed Anders. "I hate to get drunk whilst a guest under someone's roof - but Maker do I ever need a drink after that."

"Love, can you deal with that? "Vic asked quietly.

Fenris nodded and gestured to Anders, who rose to his feet. The elf walked into the pantry, selecting a couple of decent bottles of wine; handing one to Invictus, he gestured to the blond apostate to follow him. Anders picked up his bag from beside the door and followed the elf upstairs to the guest room.

Anders nodded his thanks; once the elf had left, he uncorked the bottle then, pulling the pillow out from his bag, he toed off his boots before settling back against the pillows on the bed, clutching the faded old pillow to his chest with one arm whilst he drank directly from the bottle. He hoped he would be drunk enough not to dream when he finally passed out.

His reactions to the blood bothered him, but Invictus’ obvious panic - in front of someone he didn’t care for, no less - suggested to him that whatever it was that had been in that room, it had affected both of them. That was a source of comfort in a way; it hadn’t been some moral failing or weakness upon his part. He’d felt so alone and uncertain since Justice had been stripped from him, ever full of self-doubt. But he hadn’t panicked like that before - even when he and the other wardens had confronted the Broodmother herself. Sure, he’d been scared - they all had - but that fear hadn’t paralysed him the way this had.

He put the bottle to his lips and drank deeply. When the wine was gone, he let the bottle fall from his fingers to the floor and fell back heavily upon the bed, closing his eyes as he clutched his mother’s pillow as a talisman against dark dreams. They came nonetheless when he closed his eyes, exhaustion claiming him.

He was walking through the Deep Roads. A river of black flowed through the tunnels, soaking the hem of his robes with every step and filling the air with the coppery tang of blood, overlaying the stench of the taint all around.

The hall opened out into a vast chamber that seemed vaguely familiar. Something golden gleamed upon a raised dais in the middle of the chamber, from which a wet dripping sound emanated, each droplet echoing in the silent space. As Anders drew closed, he realised the golden object was the Eluvian, its glass shattered - and there was something within the golden frame.

No - not something; someone. Someone with long dark gold hair that fell forward over his face as he hung, slumped, bound spread-eagled within the frame, the bindings glistening wet and red in the strange perpetual half-light of the Deep Roads. As Anders approached closer, he could feel the presence of darkspawn all around him, like an unclean scratching at the back of his mind that itched unpleasantly stronger as he approached the dais.

As he got nearer, he realised the man hanging within the Eluvian had been disembowelled, the coils of his intestines pulled out from the bloody cavity in his abdomen and looped around the frame of the mirror. The man was bound to the gilt frame by his own guts. And yet somehow, the man was still alive, the silence punctuated by his shuddering, gasping breaths.

Anders stopped as he felt his gorge rising, nausea coiling in his own guts which churned uneasily. Clutching his staff for balance, he turned slightly away and vomited. When he turned back, he realised the tortured man had lifted his head and was regarding him with glazed amber eyes.

“Arden?” Anders breathed, horrified. “Maker, no!” He waded towards the other mage swiftly, but as he reached the bottom step leading up to the dais there was a sudden churning and roiling of the slick dark fluid behind the Eluvian. A moment later an immense Broodmother reared up from the blood-like liquid; it clung to her mottled pale skin like bloody slime as she lurched forward. She drew herself up behind Arden, then slid clammy, glistening arms around his body in some gross parody of a lover’s embrace.

“Get away from him!” Anders screamed, lifting his staff high as it blazed with power. He took a step forward then jerked to a halt as something wrapped itself around his ankle. Staring down, he saw with horror that tentacles were forming on the surface of the liquid - blood-red, thick and slimy, writhing as they rose from the surface of the fluid to wrap around his legs, pinning him in place. 

He struggled wildly as the tentacles rose to engulf him, his efforts in vain as they pinned one arm to his side, thick coils winding their way around his body, around his torso, one tentacle inching its way around his throat before slowly constricting as he screamed. He felt their slimy touch as they inched up across his face, and he continued to scream as one fat writhing finger probed past his lips. His screams were muffled as the tentacle forced its way into his mouth, down his throat, swelling and growing as he gagged and choked on the slimy, warm, gelatinous mass that throbbed and pulsed in time to each beat of his heart, forcing itself deeper and deeper and choking his screams as the coil about his throat tightened....

 

**

 

Vic had gone into their room and uncorked the bottle by the time Fenris came in. "Drink?" He said solemnly after he'd taken a long pull.

The elf glanced over as he paused beside the armour stand, fingers unbuckling the straps that held on his leather armour. “Beloved, it is barely noon.”

Invictus shrugged and took another long swallow of the wine as Fenris divested himself of his armour then came to sit upon the edge of the bed. Gently, the elf prised the bottle out of the mage’s hands.

“Love, this is unlike you,” said the elf quietly. “I’ve seen you take down demons, dragons and darkspawn without a second thought. We’ve shed enough blood between us to fill this house ten times over and more - why then has a pool of blood in one room shaken you so? This isn’t like you. Retreating to your bed at noon with a bottle of wine - you haven’t done that since Le- since your mother died.” His emerald eyes were troubled. “Love, we both know I am not good with words, but... please. Talk to me.”

“It’s the straw that broke the camel’s back. Going to that other Kirkwall, Arden coming here, losing Anders for a while, and now this? It’s the last thing, I can’t cope Fenris. I’m not strong like people think, and I break just like other men. So, why not get drunk and have a breakdown before noon? I’m sure it’s all the rage in Orlais. I’ll be a trendsetter.” Vic finished with a hysterical little laugh that wasn’t like him at all.

Fenris reached forward and caught Invictus’ wrists in his warm firm grasp. “Love, you’re starting to scare me. You are strong. Please, stay with me. Don’t give in to this. We’ve come through so much together; we can get through this as well. We both saw the same thing. Why am I unaffected whereas both you and the mage have been terrified by it? Something else is at work here, I am sure of it. Could it be a fear demon preying upon you both, one that I am unable to sense somehow?”

“I don’t know Fenris. I don’t know much about demons, I was educated outside the Circle remember? Kind of hate the fact that I have this curse in my blood. Well the jokes’ on me now, it’s what I get for being like this about my powers. I’m not strong, not right now, and I don’t know what you’ve seen in your life that the sight of a mirror bleeding doesn’t terrify _you._ ” 

Vic leaned forward and pressed his forehead to his lover’s. “I’m sorry, I’ll try to pull myself together. If nothing else you don’t need to have me falling to pieces in addition to Anders. I’d rather not burden you like that love.”

“Bleeding mirrors would have seemed fairly mundane compared to some of the things I saw at Danarius’ side,” replied Fenris sombrely. “When blood magic and human sacrifices are a near-daily occurrence around you in Minrathous and your own existence is the product of untold bloodshed... well, add to that the score or more of abominations I have seen since coming to Kirkwall, a mirror bleeding feels more like an idle curiosity than a thing to be feared.” The elf shrugged. “It is not exactly an uneventful or normal life we live here, Vic.” 

He leaned forward and cupped Invictus’ cheek with one warm hand, kissing him lightly upon the lips. “You could never be a burden to me, dear heart,” he reassured the mage. “Your troubles are mine.”

“I don’t deserve you.” Vic said softly before he tugged Fenris into his arms and held him as if the elf’s presence would make everything alright. Fenris rested his head upon Invictus’ shoulder for a while, and then rolled over onto his back upon the bed, pulling the mage with him until Invictus’ head was cradled against his chest, the elf’s arm around the mage’s shoulders, his heartbeat strong, steady and reassuring beneath Invictus’ ear. 

Fenris gently stroked Invictus’ hair until he felt the other man relax against him, his limbs heavy as he edged towards sleep. Though wakeful, Fenris was content to lie there as his lover drifted in a light doze. 

He had lost count of the passing of time when a blood-curdling scream echoed down the hallway from the blond apostate’s room. Fenris jerked out of the beginnings of a light doze to sit upright, feeling Invictus come instantly awake against him. “Venhedis, what-” began Fenris, as Anders screamed again.

“I’ve never heard him make that kind of noise.” Vic said as he got out of bed and bolted out the door. He flung the guest bedroom open and saw Anders thrashing about in bed, tangled in covers and about to fling himself off if he didn’t stop moving around. The blankets and sheet had come untucked and the apostate’s legs and one arm were pinned by the blanket. A twisted length of the sheet had become entwined tight around the mage’s throat, and his screams gave way to a horrid choking, gurgling sound as he jerked, gripped in the throes of his nightmare, his struggles weakening.

Invictus snapped out of his stupor and bolted over to the bed, his fingers surprisingly steady as he pulled the sheet from Anders’ throat. He held the other mage still and called to him. “Wake up, it’s just a dream. You’re alright, wake up Anders.” 

The mage gasped in a lungful of air as his eyes fluttered open and he shuddered. “Blood,” he croaked as his fingers clutched weakly at Invictus’ shirt. “Maker... that was bad. Arden... broodmother,” he panted.

“Broodmother?” Vic asked warily as he tried to calm Anders; he turned to Fenris and arched an eyebrow, unsure what to do. It were not as though they were all that friendly with Anders but he was still a guest and terrified.

“The joys of being a Grey Warden,” sighed Anders. “See the world - well, the underground bits of it anyway, live a short and brutal life, wear a cool uniform and be tortured by nightmares every night of the remainder of your brief existence. And broodmothers. Maker, I could have lived my whole life in blissful ignorance of those things.” He ran a hand through his hair and tried to smile.

“Well, none of us are getting any more rest for now. Might as well get up and eat something. Assuming we can eat after this morning’s events.” Vic said in an attempt at humor that fell flat. 

“Right, I’ll just go downstairs and see what’s in the cold box. See you downstairs.” the champion took the opportunity to slip out of the room, leaving his lover and Anders alone. He hadn’t meant to do that, but the opportunity to escape was there and he took it. 

Fenris blinked, then stared at Anders, who had laid his forearm across his eyes as he concentrated on slowing his breathing and racing heart back down to something approximating normal. “That one was bad even by my usual standards,” admitted Anders quietly, unaware Invictus had left them.

“You experience these dreams every time you sleep?” asked the elf, curious in spite of himself. He was no stranger to nightmares either. He folded his arms as he leaned against the wall, regarding the mage thoughtfully.

Anders lowered his arm and glanced around, surprised to find himself alone with the elf. “Generally, yes,” he agreed. “I try to sleep as little as possible. Sometimes, if I’ve exhausted myself enough, I manage to sleep without dreaming - or at least not remembering them afterwards. If it’s really bad, then I take a potion.”

“What sort of potion?” asked the elf.

Anders frowned as he sat up, tugging at the blanket to loosen it as he pushed himself up against the pillows. “It’s a weak decoction of deathroot, with valerian and chamomile,” he said slowly. “Too much is dangerous, but just the right dose will put me out without dreams for a good twelve hours. It’s rare I have the luxury of that much sleep though; I only take it when I’m utterly desperate.”

“And are you often that desperate?” asked the elf.

Anders stared at the elf, not sure why he should take this sudden interest in an unwanted guest but willing to indulge his curiosity a little. It was unusual for Fenris to take any interest in him at all, let alone this much without resorting to baiting or insulting him. “Rarely,” he said quietly. “But I’ve needed it more with Justice gone. He always kept the worst of them at bay.”

“Did you bring it with you?” asked Fenris.

Anders swung his legs out of the bed and stood up. “I’m not sure I should answer that,” he replied. “Self-preservation and all that.”

“You think I would seek to harm you under Hawke’s roof when he has admitted you as a guest?” He nearly said ‘welcomed’ but he knew that would not have been the truth. Neither he nor Invictus were comfortable with Anders around, but the mage wasn’t as irritating to have about the place as Fenris had feared. Something had changed about Anders. Or maybe the change was within Fenris himself; he wasn’t sure.

“Just old habits and caution,” replied Anders as he pulled the leather thong from his hair. “I haven’t survived this long out of the clutches of the templars without picking up a healthy dose of paranoia.”

“Some would say unhealthy,” replied Fenris, as Anders put the thong in his mouth before sweeping his hair back with both hands. The mage paused and stared at the elf then grunted noncommittally around the leather. He held the ponytail with one hand then tied it back, tugging it tight.

“Some,” agreed Anders. “I call it ‘staying alive’. I’m partial to breathing, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“And talking,” noted the elf.

“You’re being uncommonly friendly for you, Fenris,” observed Anders as he reached for his staff and slung it at his back.

“Am I?” said the elf as he pushed himself away from the wall and made his way to the door. “Just a natural curiosity about the former abomination, perhaps.”

“I’m glad you noted the ‘former’ part,” muttered Anders as he followed him out. “Why did you ask about the potion? Did you want some for Hawke?”

“Perhaps,” said the elf as they headed down the stairs. “He needs his sleep, and it is much troubled of late. As is mine,” he added quietly. 

Anders halted. “You would trust me not to poison you?”

“You are, before all else, a healer,” replied the elf quietly. “You have had more than adequate opportunity over the years to kill me. I think my continued breathing is proof I may trust your skills.”

“I’m... flattered,” said Anders as he followed him down towards the kitchen.

“Don’t be,” replied the elf as he walked into the kitchen. “I merely speak the truth.” He made his way to Invictus’ side and bent down to kiss him where he sat at the table.

Vic motioned to the platter of meat, cheese and bread as he returned Fenris’ affection. “Sorry, I’m not much of a cook but I can make a sandwich at least. Bodahn should be back in time to make dinner, I sent him off with a list and notice we’ll have a third with us for a few days.” 

Anders dropped into a seat and reached for bread and cheese, biting off a chunk of the bread hungrily as he helped himself to slices of cold roast before falling to, wolfing down food as though he had been starving for days.

“Ah. The famed Grey Warden appetite,” remarked Fenris quietly as he helped himself. Anders merely grunted around a mouthful of food as he continued to bolt it down before reaching for seconds.

“Don’t choke on a piece of roast, there’s plenty of food. No one is going to take your plate away Anders.” Vic said sadly. He realized that perhaps the former warden had been starving and for him, there was always a chance he didn’t know when his next meal would come. The thought put him off his food for a bit, and he rose to make tea instead. He’d lived in opulence, more than any mage had outside of Tevinter and there were others that barely scraped by. He’d spoken with Arden about it long into one of the nights he’d been trapped in the other Hawke’s Kirkwall and the truth of it seemed to finally sink in with Anders’ presence at his table.

“When was your last meal?” asked Fenris curiously.

“What day is it today?” asked the apostate, hastily swallowing his mouthful of food. When Fenris told him, he sat back with a look of concentration before nodding and reaching for more of the cold roast. “Three days ago,” he said. “Varric insisted on treating me to a bowl of stew at the Hanged Man. I ate half and gave the rest to a pregnant woman I was treating at the clinic.” He tore into the meat with relish.

Invictus put his cup down with a hard thud and left the table. He’d hated Anders for so long, but to see the man starve himself, to give half his meal to a woman because she needed it.... It shattered his perfect illusion of what he thought Anders was. He started to go to the foyer, then remembered the shattered, bleeding mirror they’d locked inside. So he grabbed a half empty bottle of Nevarran white and poured himself a glass. 

Anders seemed to finally have had enough and sat back, one hand resting on his slightly-uncomfortably-full stomach, the plate empty. “Maker, that feels so much better,” he sighed. “Thank you.”

Fenris said nothing, merely setting a mug of tea before the sated mage before sitting down with his own with a glance to Invictus. He noted the glass of wine but said nothing, busying himself instead with the contents of his mug.

“You’re welcome, and while you’re here you can have whatever you want Anders.” Vic said between sips of his drink. He knew Fenris would give him a talking to later, but he just didn’t care at that moment. His world had been flipped upside down and inside out yet again. It would have been enough to drive Sebastian to drink by the tenth bell. 

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you with my nightmare,” Anders said quietly. “Though after this morning I should have guessed it was likely to happen.”

Vic shrugged and took another sip. “No bother, I doubt I’ll rest well either tonight.” he said solemnly before he poured the rest of the wine into his glass and set the bottle aside. He drank rather than spoke, unsure if he could have a conversation that wouldn’t let Anders know just how rattled he was.

Fenris darted a glance at him, then regarded Anders thoughtfully. “Perhaps tonight you should take that potion you spoke of,” he suggested. “You are welcome to sleep as late as you wish tomorrow - you said it puts you out for twelve hours?” Darting a sideways glance at Invictus as Anders nodded, he drew a breath. “I would... ask for some for myself, if you have enough to spare a couple of doses?”

Anders didn’t look at Invictus; he merely nodded. “It doesn’t take much. A small cup is enough to knock me out completely within a few minutes of drinking it. For a warrior such as yourself, or someone like Hawke, it would probably only take half that amount, as you’re not Grey Wardens. Too much could poison you. I’ll measure out a couple of doses for you later.”

Fenris nodded his thanks. Draining his mug, he glanced towards the doorway. “We should deal with... that... sooner rather than later, for everyone’s peace of mind.” He glanced at Invictus. “It would probably be best to do so sober, love,” he added quietly.

The dark skinned apostate gave Fenris a glare before he intentionally got up and got another bottle of white wine. “I think I deserve a drink after all that’s happened to us, love.” Vic said with a malicious grin on his face. He loved Fenris but hated it when the elf did things like this, at least when he was in his cups or in a bad mood to start.

“Love... don’t do this. Please,” breathed Fenris as he rose to his feet. “Give me the bottle.” His voice was gentle but his eyes were worried.

Anders kept his head down and suddenly found that the contents of the bottom of his mug were incredibly interesting and fascinating.

“Don’t do what beloved? Simply enjoy a drink in my home, is that so wrong?” Vic said as he got to his feet and smiled at his lover with a slight quirk to his lips.

“Vic...” There was a pleading note in Fenris’ voice. “Not now. Please.” He reached for the bottle.

Invictus glared at his lover, uncaring they had an audience. He held on to the bottle and sat back down before he pulled a knife from his belt to uncork the wine. 

Fenris’ hand closed like a vice around Invictus’ wrist as he slipped into Tevene. “Do not anger me, my little mage,” he hissed coldly, hating himself even as he did it, all too aware of Anders’ eyes widening as he peered over the rim of his mug. “Your Domne is most displeased with his little pet. Do you really want to push me, Invictus Endrin Hawke?”

Vic’s eyes widened and he barely kept back a whimper. “No ser.” he whispered and let go of the bottle then looked away from Fenris as he tried not to slide to his knees and beg forgiveness. That was not for anyone else’s eyes.

Fenris released his wrist and snatched up the bottle, turning away to the sink. Anders averted his eyes, but not before he had seen the look of intense self-loathing that crossed the elf’s fine features. 

Fenris poured the wine down the sink, his back rigid. The only sound for the next few minutes was that of expensive wine swirling down the drain and then the soft clink as Fenris set the empty bottle beside the sink. “We will talk later,” the elf said quietly. 

Anders sat frozen, his eyes on his mug, wishing the ground could just open up and swallow him whole.

“Of course.” Vic said quietly before he stood and went to the closed foyer door. “What do we do about that damned mirror?” he said in a voice that was far too chipper for the situation.

Anders set the mug down and cleared his throat self-consciously. “How are you at banishings?” he asked as he got to his feet. “I figure if we proceed as though it were a fear demon, hit it from both sides at once then toast the mirror - uh, I hope you didn’t particularly like that carpet....” He grinned hesitantly.

“Not anymore.” Vic said. He touched the door to release the wards and motioned for Anders to get ready. “Figures a fear demon would find me.” he muttered angrily.

Anders took up position, readying a spirit blast. He nodded to Invictus.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders' nightmare comes to life and tries to eat him, Invictus and Fenris make an embarassing discovery, and eyes are opened.

Vic readied Fist of the Maker and on the count of three unleashed it in tandem with Anders’ spell. He swore as glass exploded upward then a mass of writhing, blood-red tentacles erupted from the pool of blood as the glass swirled around it, glittering like deadly diamonds.

“Sweet Andraste’s flaming knickers,” gasped Anders as the blood drained from his face. “Kill it! Kill it with fire!”

Vic let a fireball pool in his hand for a moment before he sent it at the creature. “Fenris, love, perhaps you can put that pig sticker to use?” he shouted even as he called up another Crushing Prison.  Beside him, Anders was calling up a firestorm and hurling dripping fire upon the fear demon as it writhed and screamed in an unearthly voice.

“I’d rather you didn’t burn the house down Anders,” Vic said as he surrounded the creature with the arcane cage, quipping even as he moved out of his lover’s way. “Kill that thing.”

Fenris was a blur of arcane light as he darted through the opening to engage the beast directly, even as Anders hurriedly moved to do a little damage limitation with ice spells. The lyrium ghost was a blur as Fenris whirled and danced in and around the tentacles, his blade slicing through the unearthly flesh effortlessly before he gracefully leapt out of the way of a lashing limb.

Anders darted in to aim a lightning bolt at the bulk of the demon and narrowly avoided being struck by a whirling shard of glass as it hurtled by his head at lethal speed. He ducked to one side then twisted to avoid one of the tentacles as it flailed at his ankle. Spinning his staff one-handed, he thrust the bladed end into the gelatinous limb and twisted, severing it near the base.

Another tentacle ensnared his wrist and he closed his eyes briefly, unleashing another spirit blast which stunned the demon long enough for Fenris to slice through the offending tentacle, allowing Anders to pull free with a gasped thanks. He spun upon his heel as Fenris leapt once more towards the central mass of the fear demon. Readying another lightning bolt, he raised his hand and then cried out as another tentacle curled around both his ankles then yanked. His staff flew from his hand as the back of his head struck the ground with a hard crack; stunned, he blinked dazedly as the fear demon began to drag him towards its gaping maw.

“Vic, the healer is down!” called Fenris as he hewed at the monstrous creature. Heavily wounded and leaking stinking black ichor from the severed stumps of over half its tentacles, the flesh around its, for lack of a better descriptive term, head charred in places, blistering and black in others, the demon threw another tentacle around Anders’ unresisting form as the mage groaned faintly. It dragged him closer to its gaping jaws as a third tentacle looped around his torso and inched up towards his throat, encircling it as the demon lifted him up. Anders’ head lolled back, eyes rolled back in his head, his arms dangling limply as the the demon opened it’s mouth and guided his feet into its maw.

“Give me an opening!” growled the elf, held back by a thrashing tentacle and the whirling shards of glass as they dove at his head, forcing him to duck aside. He was bleeding from a myriad number of small cuts and lacerations, teeth bared in a feral snarl.

Vic flung fire from one hand and force magic from the other in the hope it would make the thing release Anders. “Go for it.”

The fear demon roared in pain, dropping Anders to the floor though it didn’t relinquish its grip upon him. The flying shards of glass veered around and dove straight for Invictus’ head even as Fenris darted in to bury his blade to the hilt in one lurid eye as the demon screamed.

Vic cast Crushing Prison again on the demon to keep it still before he went over to pull Anders free of it’s dying grip. The blond apostate was a dead weight in his arms, his body limp and unresponsive though he moaned faintly as Invictus pulled him clear.

Fenris phased his arm and thrust it deep inside the demon’s bulk then abruptly ripped it free in a spray of black ichor and gobbets of stinking flesh as the demon thrashed briefly, shuddered and then went still. He backed away, panting, his arm painted in black slime almost to his shoulder. He grimaced as the demon abruptly liquified into a rank gelatinous mess upon the burned carpet, the fragments of mirror dropping to the floor.

“Well that carpet definitely has to go now,” Vic panted as he hauled Anders to his feet. “He’s too light, I don’t like that I can heft him so easily. Let’s get cleaned up and I’ll try to heal him.” Anders slumped against Invictus, his eyelids fluttering; he would have fallen again had Fenris not stepped in on the other side of the tall apostate and caught his arm, slinging it across his shoulder.

“I could carry him,” remarked Fenris as they took a step towards the stairs.

“‘m OK,” slurred Anders as he tried to get his feet to co-operate. “I can walk.”

“Evidence would suggest otherwise,” said the elf drily.

“I’ve got him, it’s only a few steps. You have your own injuries,” Vic said as he shifted Anders’ weight and headed upstairs to the bathing chamber. “No one gets in bed before we’re thoroughly bathed and patched up.”

“They are minor scratches, nothing serious,” sniffed Fenris as he followed them up.

“I’ll be... alright in a minute,” slurred Anders, trying to focus on the stairs. “Just... need a little rest.” His head drooped as he stumbled, then he frowned and shook it. “No. Shouldn’t sleep. Bad... not safe.”

Invictus gave his lover a withering look. “You are covered in blood, ichor and Maker knows what else. He cracked his skull and I’m not one hundred percent either. Bath, now.”

Fenris merely grunted. Once in the bathing chamber, he stripped himself off then turned to assist Invictus in undressing the semi-conscious mage. Anders was uncooperative at first then gave up and let them undress him, swaying slightly as he stood naked, not quite with it enough to be self-conscious of his state of undress or his scars.

Fenris pushed the mage to sit down on a bench then began pumping water, setting the bath to filling as he sluiced cold water over himself to rinse off the worst of the slime and dirt whilst Invictus undressed.

Vic heated the water and gave his lover an apologetic look as he helped Anders sit on a stool so he could rinse him off. “Please try to hold still, I don’t want to scald you.”

Fenris stepped over and laid a steadying hand on the apostate’s shoulder.

“Not going anywhere,” mumbled Anders. “Room’s spinning.”

“Sorry,” Vic muttered as he rinsed Anders as best he could then motioned to Fenris to help the mage into the large tub. It could hold all three of them and leave room to spare. “My turn to get the goo off.”

Fenris drew Anders back up to his feet then guided the stumbling mage over to the tub. He carefully helped him into the steaming water then stepped in himself, reaching for soap and flannels.

Anders fumblingly tried to scrub himself but gave up, laying back in the water. “Head’s ringing. Can’t think straight,” he muttered. Fenris mate a noise of disgusted frustration then rolled his eyes and reached for the soap before starting to scrub the apostate. Anders surrendered to his ministrations, eyes closed.

“The things I do,” Fenris muttered to himself in Tevene. Anders cracked open one eye.

“I would offer to scrub your back in return except there’s two of you,” he replied in perfect flawless Tevene.

Fenris froze and glanced up at Invictus, startled.

Invictus dropped the flannel he’d picked up from the shelf and made a choked noise as he realized that the other mage had understood what Fenris had said to him earlier. He was dripping wet from rinsing off but the urge to bathe had left and he nearly tripped over himself in his haste to flee to his room and slam the door.

“ _Venhedis! Fasta vass!_ ” swore Fenris, pulling away from the apostate. “You understood every word?”

Anders flailed as he slipped under the water; he sat up straight, spitting out a mouthful of bathwater as he fixed the elf with a jaundiced glare. “There were _some_ benefits to a Circle education,” he replied. “Over half the books on magic are written in your language, of course I can speak it.” He reached up and pulled the wet leather thong from his hair, shaking it loose before ducking his head under water then sitting up again. He swept one hand over his hair, pulling the wet locks out of his face, as he frowned at the elf.

“Look, what little games you and Hawke get up to behind closed doors are none of my business. Yes, I understood every word. What of it?” he raised an eyebrow. “Afraid I’ll ask to join in? _Ser?_ ” he added with a coy grin.

The elf’s face was a mask of affront. Abruptly he grasped the mage’s shoulders and forced him under the water with a snarl.

Anders flailed under the water, sending waves splashing across the tub and slopping over the side onto the tiled floor as he thrashed against the stronger elf. He tugged desperately at Fenris’ hands, distantly able to hear the elf swearing at him through the water. As his chest began to burn through lack of air his struggles became frenzied until suddenly the elf pulled him out of the water and pushed him roughly against the side of the tub; he collapsed over the edge, gasping and wheezing as the elf continued to berate him loudly.

“That’s not physically possible,” he wheezed. “Nor’s that. ...That has possibilities though.”

Vic came back in when he heard the commotion. “Why are you trying to drown him?” he asked from the doorway.

“He called me Ser!” sputtered the elf, furious as he stood up, naked and dripping.

“Please stop shouting,” Anders winced. “My head is splitting.”

Invictus shrugged and turned to go. “I’ll be in my room when you’re done. Don’t kill him, we learned the hard way I’m utter shite at healing. Anders, whatever you said...let it go. I can’t deal with this after what we fought.” His voice sounded hollow as he spoke and he gave Fenris the barest apologetic look before he turned and headed back into their room.

The elf stared down at the stricken mage who was clutching his aching head with both hands.

“I... apologise,” he said slowly. “I did not mean to try to drown you.”

“I apologise for letting my mouth run away with me,” replied Anders in a low voice. “Head injuries make me stupid, who knew?”

Fenris sat down in the water and began scrubbing himself briskly. “Are you able to heal yourself, at least a little?” he asked.

Anders stayed still for a few minutes then slowly, cautiously nodded. “I think so.” He lifted a hand to his head, shakily.

A short while later, Fenris and Anders emerged from the bathroom, both clad in towels. Anders was rubbing the back of his head with one hand; his head still throbbed. He’d managed to concentrate long enough to heal the worst of the damage, but the pain was a distraction in and of itself, and his reserves were not what they had been when Justice shared his mind. He hung back as Fenris strode into the bedroom.

Vic didn’t move from his spot curled on top of the covers. He couldn't face the other mage after he’d fled the bath like that.

Fenris crossed to the wardrobe and pulled out clean smallclothes and pants. “Love?” he asked quietly.

“Are you by yourself?” Invictus asked so softly only an elf would have heard him.

Fenris sighed. “Anders is waiting outside the door. His head requires further healing; I will give him a potion instead.” Dressing swiftly in the pants, he crossed over to the desk and poked through the small chest of potions.

Vic didn’t answer, instead he laid there and stared out the window as he thought about how he’d never be able to look the other mage in the eye again. No one was supposed to see that side of their relationship - especially not _him_.

Fenris returned to the doorway and pressed the potion into Anders’ hands. “I am... sorry,” the elf said slowly. “Invictus is...”

“Indisposed,” Anders finished for him with a lop-sided smile. “I understand. Come by my room in a little while and I’ll have the doses of the sleeping draught for you. Maker knows, after seeing my nightmare come to life and nearly being eaten by it, I’ll need it myself.”

Vic didn’t move when he heard their conversation stop and the door shut, followed by the padding of feet across the carpet. He finally turned over to face Fenris when he felt the dip of the bed and his lover’s touch on his shoulder. “I’m…” he stopped, unsure what to even say to the elf.

“I do not think he will speak of it,” said Fenris quietly, running a hand comfortingly up and down Invictus’ back.

“Doesn’t matter, do you know how mortified I am right now?” Vic said hoarsely.

“I share your feelings, beloved,” said Fenris quietly. “I would never have spoken as I did if I had known he knew. Though I am ashamed I let my anger get the better of me.” He bent down and bestowed a light kiss upon Invictus’ shoulderblade. “I should have not made such an issue over the wine,” he murmured. “Though perhaps we would not have fared so well against the demon had I not. Then again, we would not have faced it with you less than sober. So perhaps it was all for naught anyway.” He bowed his head, resting his forehead against his lover’s back. “Forgive me, _mi amatas_ ,” he breathed softly.

“You’ve done nothing that requires forgiveness. I shouldn't have been such an ass.” Vic said quietly. “Can you check on dinner? I’ll change into something I don't mind burning and clean up the mess.”

“Are you sure you wish to deal with that alone? I’m sure Bodahn could arrange to have it taken care of discreetly,” suggested Fenris, pressing another kiss between Invictus’ shoulderblades.

“Fine, I don’t care that much as long as it gets cleaned up. Have him order a replacement rug as well.” Invictus said before he turned around and kissed Fenris on the lips. Fenris drew the mage into his arms and returned the kiss, slowly and lovingly, before pulling away reluctantly.

“Go take a bath,” he suggested. “I’ll speak to Bodahn and check on the mage.”

“Very well, I’ll be hiding in here when you’re done.” Vic said sullenly before he forced himself up and into the bathing chamber. Once he locked the door, he dumped the water and waited for it to fill, his thoughts racing as he considered what, if anything he’d say at dinner. He didn’t want to face Anders but he wasn’t going to be cowed in his own home.

Fenris made his way downstairs to find the dwarven seneschal. When Bodahn saw the ruined mess in the room, he sucked his breath in through his teeth then gave a low whistle before bading the elf leave it with him.

“I shall see to all, messere, never fear,” promised Bodahn. “Though yourself and the young master may prefer to, er, use the side entrance for a day or two until the renovations are done.”

“That would seem prudent,” agreed the elf.

He left the dwarf to deal with the room and dinner preparations, dropping briefly by the kitchen to retrieve a pair of small cups and a mug, remembering what Anders had said earlier about potion doses, then trotted upstairs and knocked on the guest room door.

“It’s open,” called Anders. Fenris pushed the door open to find the mage clad in a faded and worn but clean shirt and pants. He was standing by the window, looking down into the garden, the empty healing potion bottle in his right hand and a half-full vial of lyrium in his right. He glanced round as the elf entered, then tossed back the remainder of the glowing blue liquid in one swallow, grimacing.

“You are well?” asked the elf, setting the cups on a nearby desk.

“As well as can be expected after a fear demon tried to make me into a light snack,” shrugged the apostate. He made his way to his pack and pulled out a small black bottle. Uncorking it, he carefully poured a couple of fingers of dark green liquid into each of the small cups before half-filling the mug.

“It’ll start to work in only a few minutes,” Anders warned.

“Why so much for yourself, so little for - so little in the others?” asked Fenris.

“Two reasons,” replied Anders. “One, I’m a Grey Warden and you’re not - and nor is Hawke.” He grinned briefly but humourlessly. “Second, I’ve been using this for years and I’ve built up a certain tolerance; you haven’t.” He corked the bottle and set it down then picked up the mug.

“You haven’t eaten yet,” Fenris pointed out.

Anders shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. The food I ate at lunch was more food in one sitting than I’ve eaten in a week. And I think Hawke would find his appetite improved if I weren’t there.” He grimaced. “I’m... sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make you both uncomfortable. My mouth runs away with me sometimes.”

“About that-” began Fenris, but Anders shook his head.

“I told you, what happens between you two is none of my business,” he said. He turned and made his way to the bed, sitting on the edge as he stared up at the elf, cradling the mug in his hands. “I will say nothing. You have my word.”

“What you saw... Invictus shows that to no-one else,” said Fenris quietly. “It is a side of him that is... for us alone. Do you understand?”

“I saw nothing,” said Anders quietly. “I heard nothing.”

Fenris frowned. “As simple as that?”

Anders nodded. “As simple as that. All men have their needs, Fenris, and I would be the last man to judge another for them. Maker knows, I’m no innocent, I-” He broke off and fell silent. “We all have our secrets,” he finished quietly, his voice slightly wistful. “I promise yours are safe with me.”

“And what do you need, Anders?” asked Fenris.

“A quiet mind,” replied Anders, as he lifted the mug to his lips and drank it down. He shuddered at the bitter taste, but drained the cup before quietly setting it aside on the bedside table. He laid himself down upon the bed, composing himself for rest, hands folded upon his breast.

“How long?” asked Fenris quietly.

“A few minutes,” replied Anders quietly. “I’ll sleep for hours. You won’t be able to wake me.”

“Will you dream?” asked the elf softly.

“No,” sighed Anders. His eyes fluttered closed, and his breathing deepened, becoming slow and even. After long minutes of watching, the elf cautiously moved to hover over the sleeping mage. He nudged him, tapped his face gently, then finally shook him; the mage was limp and unresponsive, deep in drugged sleep. He began to gently snore.

The elf moved away, and picked up the two small cups then left the room.

“He is sleeping,” he announced quietly when he entered their bedroom.

“Alright, I’ll wait until after dinner to take one of those. I’m guessing they’re not both for you. I probably should do something besides hide in my room.” Vic said from his place curled on the bed.

“He didn’t say as much - but why else give me two doses?” shrugged the elf. “He took his whilst I watched. It was... fast. He is unresponsive. I dare say I could phase my hand into his chest and he would never stir.” He set the cups on the bedside table. “At least having seen it act upon him, I have some idea of what to expect.”

“I don’t know, saving one for later. I don't much care right now Fenris. I’m restless; I’m going to the study to see if there’s anything among the books about fear demon or possession. Apologies that I am not good company right now.” Vic sat up and looked at Fenris with a hangdog expression as Malcolm would have said.

Fenris sighed as he folded his arms and leaned against a bedpost. “What can I do, love?” he asked softly.

“Why must you do anything? I’ve been humiliated in front of someone who hates me. I’m a mabari whisker shy of a total breakdown and a fear demon destroyed the foyer this afternoon. What can you do Fenris? Sometimes, you just have to accept things and go on.” Vic said bitterly as he moved around the room, dressing in something more substantial than a house robe.

“I do not think he hates you,” said Fenris carefully. “At least, not as much as he used to. He risked himself to face that fear demon, and he volunteered the sleep potion of his own accord.” He studied the lyrium lines upon the back of his hand thoughtfully. “Perhaps losing his demon has changed him as much as Arden’s presence changed us. I know I am not the same man I was before Arden arrived. I find the mage’s presence... tolerable. I never thought that would be possible, but... I think I can see now why Varric said we were more alike than we knew.” He blinked. “I would not believed this could happen a year ago.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not as if he’ll ever care about why we do such things. He’ll just see me as the mage-hating mage, lackey to the templars no matter what I do or say. He’s probably amused that I’m your willing pet.” Vic said bitterly after he tugged a tunic over his head.

Fenris shook his head. “No... I don’t think so,” he replied slowly. “‘All men have needs’ - those were his words... and then he said that he saw nothing, heard nothing.” He turned to Invictus. “Love... maybe he understands that he has changed. Maybe he understands that others can as well.” He crossed to pull Invictus into his arms. “Beloved, maybe he is giving you a chance to prove him wrong in his beliefs about you. Would you have him continue to fear you? Or will you perhaps...” He made a faint sound of frustration. “I am not good with words. Talk to him when he awakens, beloved. Please.”

“Fine, I’ll do as you ask. When I run out of there either in tears or screaming we’ll see what good talking does. I need to go do something with myself until dinner, excuse me.” Vic didn’t struggle out of the elf’s grip but he did look over Fenris’ shoulder as he waited to be released.

Fenris lowered his head and let his hands fall away as he sighed. He opened his mouth as if to speak then thought better of it, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry love.” Vic whispered before he ran off to the study to be alone and compose himself before he had to deal with anyone else.

Dinner was a terse affair with Invictus remaining tight-lipped and sullen even until they went to bed. He simply curled against Fenris and closed his eyes, unsure how long the potion would keep him asleep. Fenris glanced at him briefly then downed his potion in one go; the small cup slipped from his fingers mere moments later as the elf’s head lolled to one side, the white-haired warrior almost instantly plunged into deep sleep.

Vic fell asleep soon after he took his own dose, and thankfully did not dream that night. He awoke well before his lover, and if not for remembering the potion they’d downed, he would have been afraid at how deeply asleep the elf was.

He pulled himself free of his lover and sat up. He wasn’t sure what time it was, only that the sun was shining. Vic went down the hall and entered Anders’ room, surprised to find him still asleep.

Anders lay exactly as he had fallen asleep, hands folded upon his breast, breathing slowly, silently and deeply. All the lines upon his face had been smoothed out in sleep, making him appear much younger than his three decades of life; his dark gold hair was scattered loose across the pillow, and he seemed altogether more innocent and vulnerable. An empty mug stood upon the bedside table, a drop of dark green liquid at the bottom.

Vic sat in the chair by the bed and sighed. Anders looked so different when he slept, it was a difference he had a hard time wrapping his head around. He thought Anders was still sound asleep, so he started talking about the last few days, how he’d come to change his mind about the apostate thanks to Arden’s influence.

He meandered on to the last twelve hours, even speaking honestly about how mortified he was that Anders had understood what Fenris said to him in the dining room. Vic glanced at the sleeping mage and sighed. What good did it do to bare his soul when the man was dead asleep?

Anders was vaguely aware he was not alone as he drifted slowly back towards consciousness. A voice was talking, but it took him a little while to place it, his mind still heavily fogged by the potion. He tried to open his eyes, but the paralysis induced by the deathroot still had him firmly in its grip; he could only lie there, eyes closed, unable to move. Listening silently as Hawke spoke words he would never have said had he known Anders was awake.

Vic sat there for a while, silently waiting to see if Anders would come around soon. He felt strange, almost like he was invading the other mage’s privacy by doing so, even in his own home.

The silence seemed oppressive, and Anders desperately wished Hawke would speak again. Trapped in his own body as he was right now, the silence felt too much like that of the tower in his year in solitary. _Say something_ , he begged the other mage silently. _Anything. Please._

Almost as though he heard the plea, Invictus spoke out loud. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass to you, to other mages. I’m not the man the tales would make of me, and I wish I’d realized this years ago.” Vic said solemnly.

Anders’ mouth went dry. The man seemed genuinely remorseful. He tried to speak, but his tongue felt thick and swollen in his mouth, his throat dry. He managed to swallow as his eyelids fluttered, still unable to open them.

Invictus noticed him trying to open his eyes and mouth and jumped up to get him a drink of water from a nearby pitcher. “Here, sorry, I wasn’t trying to be creepy or anything.”

Anders managed to twitch his hand slightly as his eyes slowly opened. Speech and movement were still beyond him, but his eyes conveyed his gratitude as the other mage set the cup to his lips and trickled a little water into his parched mouth. As Invictus lifted the cup away, he licked his lips then managed to whisper, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll, ah, just go so you can get dressed for the day.” Vic stammered, hopeful Anders would want him gone.

“Wait... please,” Anders managed to gasp. “Just... a few minutes. The deathroot... taking longer... than I thought.”

“Alright.” Invictus sat down again and waited out the other mage.

It took some time, but gradually as the deathroot wore off Anders was able to open his eyes properly, the feeling coming back into his hands as he clutched at the coverlet.

“You’ve changed,” he breathed. “For what you did... I want to forgive you.”

Invictus looked everywhere but at Anders for a while then finally gazed at the blond. “But you cannot; I understand,” he replied before he looked down at his hands.

Anders managed to lever himself up on one elbow. “I didn’t say that,” he replied quietly.

“Then what? You said you want to forgive me. That leads either to you can’t or you won’t; neither is something I want to hear of myself,” Vic said just as quietly.

“I’m still trying to forgive _myself_ for some of the things I’ve done,” replied Anders with a sad smile. “I’m just... I’m giving you a chance to show me how you’ve changed, Hawke. But I need you to give me the chance to know the real Hawke. You’re not the man you were. But I don’t know this new man you’ve become. I don’t know yet if he is a man I dare trust - though the fact I’ve woken up here in this bed instead of in a cell in the Gallows is a promising one. Particularly given that I think I overdid the potion a bit and frankly if Meredith herself were to walk through that door this very moment there’d be precious little I could do about it.”

Vic frowned at that. “You helped us, I would not turn you over to Meredith, not after all that’s happened. Trust me or not; I can’t make you do so, Anders. The man I am is not worth knowing; the facade of the Champion is one that you’d be better off having at your side.” The mage’s voice was laced with bitterness that was always under the surface, moments from leaking out as he spoke.

“A year ago you would have handed me over without a second thought had you had me at your mercy like this - no Justice anymore, still drugged from deathroot. You say trust you - well, perhaps you should do the same for me. Trust me to know whether the real Hawke is a man worth knowing. Give me the chance to find out for myself.” He smiled hesitantly. “I’m still trying to find who the real Anders is without Justice there. Maybe we can figure things out together? As friends?” He held out a hand. “Start over?” he asked.

Vic nodded, then took Anders hand and shook it solemnly. “Over...as friends,” he said before he let go of the former warden’s hand. “Now what?”

Anders fell back against the pillows. “Right now? I think maybe I need to sleep off the last of the deathroot,” Anders admitted. “It’s like trying to think through cotton wool.” He turned his face a little into the pillows and sighed. As Invictus watched, his eyes slowly drifted closed and he slipped into slumber again, the lines of care around his eyes and mouth smoothing away into vulnerable innocence once more. His breath caught briefly and then he began to snore.

Vic left the room and returned to his own, curled around Fenris and laid there with him until the elf started to stir. “Hey,” he said softly and gave the elven warrior a smile.

Fenris blinked, disoriented. “Where-” He glanced around. “What time is it?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.

“Not that late, past ten I think. Are you alright?” Invictus asked as he watched his lover struggle to come fully awake.

“Just groggy,” replied Fenris as he stretched, slowly and languidly, arching his back up off the bed and groaning quietly before pushing himself up into a semi-reclining position against the pillows. “I have not slept as deeply as that in... ever,” he mused. “If I dreamed, I do not remember.”

“Good, I didn’t either.” Vic paused, unsure if he should mention his talk with the other mage. After another moment, he admitted what he’d done. “I went in and spoke with Anders this morning.”

“And?” asked the elven warrior, curious.

“It was fine, we’re going to start over...as friends.” Vic turned to lay on his back and stare up at the canopy. “Strange isn’t it? He thought I would have turned him over to the Gallows while he was helpless and the idea he still thinks that of me actually hurt a bit.”

“Once, you would have,” replied Fenris. “It was a natural fear for him to have, given your past record. That you care enough to be hurt shows how much you have changed, love.” He regarded his mage lover thoughtfully. “Arden has changed much about you. I wonder, how much have you changed him?”

“Hopefully in the opposing direction he has changed me.” Vic closed his eyes and laughed with no humor at all. “I wonder what mother would think of me now.”

Fenris drew Invictus close to him, wrapping his strong arms around him. “She would have been proud of you no matter what,” he said quietly. “As I am, love.”

Vic took a deep shuddering breath and tried to keep calm but it was difficult. Talking about Leandra still hurt deeply, even though he’d grieved and accepted the loss. “Why does it still hurt Fenris, talking about mother?”

“She was a part of your life and a constant for over twenty years. She has been gone only a short while. It is only natural that you should grieve. I did not know her well, but I also miss her presence. It must be much worse for you, beloved.” He held the mage close, bestowing soft kisses upon the soft black hair.

The elf’s gentle touch undid Vic and he let his grief out, and held on to his lover through his sobbing. He finally fell still and silent in Fenris’ grip. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologise; there is nothing to be sorry for,” said the elf soothingly. He stroked Invictus’ back gently. “Do you feel a little better for having let it out?”

“A little yes, I’m a wreck lately love. I’m sorry that you have to deal with me falling apart like this, on top of being with me.” Vic said bitterly from his place in bed. He had no desire to move, not even for the breakfast he could smell cooking.

“And is being with the one I love such a hardship for me?” teased Fenris goodnaturedly. “You did not stand by and leave me to fall apart after I slew Danarius. When you liberated us both from those slaver pens and I was a mess, did you leave me to deal with my memories and distress alone in that cold wreck of a mansion? Should I do no less for you in your grief?”

“I know - well, my head knows it. My heart, it doesn’t seem to have gotten the message. Everything that’s happened over the last year has done me in and I guess that demon, the changes Arden instigated without trying are really just hitting me hard.” Vic gave him an honest smile before he rolled over to kiss his lover good morning. “I’m lucky to have you.”

“And I you, beloved,” rumbled the elf, burying his face against the side of Invictus’ neck as he crushed him to him in a fierce hug.

“When did we get to be such saps?” Vic said quietly.

“When did we ever have the luxury to be?” replied Fenris, letting his head drop back onto the soft white pillow.

“True enough love. We should probably eat, considering how little I had last night. My own fault, but now I’m actually hungry and the smell coming from downstairs isn’t helping. Will you wake Anders? I’m going to wash up before breakfast,” Vic said as he reluctantly got up and stretched.

“He is still sleeping?” Fenris blinked. “I thought you said you spoke when he woke earlier?” He sat up. “Did he take too much of his potion?”

“He fell back asleep, said the deathroot extract was taking a while to wear off.”

The elf threw back the covers and swung his legs to the floor as he rose. “I trust he has not inadvertently poisoned himself,” he replied as he stood and reached for his pants. “That would be... unfortunate. I shall see if I can rouse him.”

“Alright, I’ll see you downstairs love.” Vic said as he heated the water to scrub his face and tackle the stubble that seemed to grow overnight.

Fenris pulled on a clean shirt then headed down the hall to the guest room. He knocked.

“I’m awake,” slurred a voice; the elf took that as permission to enter, and pushed open the door. Anders was sitting up in bed, yawning as he stretched.

“I trust you slept well?” asked Fenris courteously.

“Like a log. Assuming logs snore, which I’ve been informed reliably I always do,” replied Anders cheerfully.

“You do," replied the elf bluntly. "Invictus tells me you were having problems rousing yourself earlier,” he added as he crossed to the window and threw back the drapes. “He was concerned for you I think.”

“There are good reasons I try not to use it too often,” replied Anders. “I build up a tolerance too fast and it takes larger doses to have the same effect - which makes it all too easy to accidentally overdose, and it always takes longer to shake off the effects of the deathroot afterwards. That’s the other reason I try not to use it too much - can’t always be sure I’ll be safe being knocked out for that long.” He shook his head. “All I need would be for a templar raid to catch me out for the count; I’d be lucky to wake up Tranquil.”

“You will be safe here.”

Anders paused as he threw back the covers. “So I’m coming to realise,” he replied, and glanced up at the elf. “Thank you.” His voice was sincere and quiet.

Fenris inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Invictus tells me you talked.”

Anders nodded as he reached for his boots. He blinked; they were shiny and clean. Bodahn must have dealt with him whilst he was asleep. He tugged them on then stood. “He doesn’t really know me very well, and I don’t know the new him very well. He seemed amenable to starting over.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “And are we... ‘starting over’?” he asked.

Anders paused as he fingered his newly-cleaned patchwork leather tunic and the feathered jacket. “I... hope so,” he said quietly, not lifting his eyes. “Do you...want to?”

“I am... not adverse to the idea,” replied the elf equally quietly. “I did not particularly like the old Anders, but I have come to realise I knew him very poorly. I would... get to know this new, unpossessed Anders. If you will allow?”

Anders glanced up at that. “I don’t expect us to become bosom buddies or anything like that, but... not enemies would be good,” he said at last. “I have too many enemies as it is.”

“Perhaps now you could begin making friends instead?” suggested the elf. “Without your demon-”

“Can we not talk about Justice? Please?” asked Anders, a pained look crossing his face.

“As you wish,” replied the elf with another courteous nod. He straightened. “Breakfast will be ready shortly; come down when you are ready. We will be in the kitchen.”

“I will,” answered Anders.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mysteries are unraveled, Arden shows the not so soft side of the Champion, and things are about as clear as muddy water.

Arden led the way up the stairs to Varric’s suite, Fenris and Anders following close behind. Sebastian turned to greet him as Varric nodded to them all before going back to a column of figures in the ledger he had open before him. Making a mark with his quill, he laid a ribbon across the page then closed the ledger before handing a small receipt to the archer then nodding to Arden with a smile.

“Hawke, always a pleasure!” the dwarf said. “What can I do for you?”

“Actually, it’s Sebastian I wanted to see, though I was hoping we could catch up over drinks later? We still on for our usual game of Wicked Grace?”

“Of course, Hawke; wouldn’t dream of missing it,” smiled the dwarf as he sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers.

Sebastian glanced up at Arden briefly then back at his half glass of wine. “Hello Hawke, what can I do for you?” he replied quietly. The noble archer was always worried that one day Arden would tell them what he’d done and that would be the day Fenris and Anders ended his time on the right side of the Veil.

Arden took a seat at the table. “I need help getting one of the Tranquil out of the Gallows,” he said quietly, with no preamble. 

Fenris and Anders exchanged a worried glance as Varric’s eyes lit up with interest.

“What makes you think I can assist with such a thing?” Sebastian said as he finally looked at Arden.

Arden held his gaze steadily, lifting his head slightly as he toyed with the edge of his collar. “You are a trusted brother of the Chantry,” he said, tilting his head slightly to one side, letting the light catch a shadowed mark across his throat.

Sebastian winced then caught himself before the others cottoned on to the reason for his discomfort. “Of course Hawke, whatever you need. I am at your disposal.” The lay brother looked away guiltily.

Arden fished a small scrap of paper from a belt pouch and slid it across the table to the prince. “How long do you think it will take to arrange?”

“A couple of days, I need to find a reason to take a Tranquil out of the Gallows. Where should I bring the mage?” Sebastian’s voice was hoarse as he read the paper over.

“Former mage,” corrected Arden softly, with a slight emphasis on ‘former’. “Bring him to my estate. I’m sure you can think of a suitable excuse. Be... inventive.” He smiled, baring his teeth. His amber eyes were cold however. 

“As you wish Champion. If there is nothing else, I should get to work on this.” Sebastian flinched from the way Arden stared at him, he felt more than guilt as he sat there, it was more like fear of what Arden could do to him if he revealed the truth.

“I knew I could count on you, Sebastian. I’ve always been able to trust you, haven’t I?” Arden leaned back, his eyes distant as he folded his hands on the table before him. “You are always the model of discretion.”

The archer made a stricken noise but refrained from letting his dark secret spill. Instead he glanced from Arden to Fenris and then to Anders as he finally agreed in a low, tight voice. “Yes, well thank you for the vote of confidence. I...should go.” Sebastian got up and left in a hurry, his gaze down as he skirted by the champion and his lovers.

“Interesting,” said Varric slowly. “Very interesting.”

Arden raised an eyebrow at him; the dwarf raised his hands placatingly. Arden sighed. “Maker, I need a drink,” he muttered.

Fenris headed down to the bar whilst Anders slid into the seat next to Arden.

“So....” began Varric slowly.

“Just another job, Varric,” said Arden quietly. “The man’s son was subjected to the rite a few days ago; he wants him back, Tranquil or no. The underground won’t help so he came to me.”

Fenris returned and slid a glass of watered wine in front of Anders before setting down a tankard of ale before Varric. He poured wine into two glasses, sliding one in front of Arden before putting the bottle down and taking a sip from his own glass.

Arden ignored the glass and reached for the bottle.

“A bit early for that, don’t you think, Hawke?” asked Varric. Arden merely grunted and took a long pull of the dark wine. Fenris and Anders exchanged another worried look; Anders made to speak but Fenris shook his head, though his eyes were troubled.

Arden continued to drink as the late afternoon gave way to early evening and the cards came out. He stripped off his outer robe, lounging in his chair in shirtsleeves and velvet doublet as they bantered lightly. As night fell, Isabela came to join them at the table. Arden’s attention wasn’t on the cards, and he steadily lost hand after hand until he got up and made his excuses, stepping out into the hall in search of a privy.

As he emerged afterwards, straightening his doublet, he turned back towards Varric’s rooms but paused as he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his left eye. Glancing back, he spotted a flash of dark blood-red hair as a figure darted back down the stairs toward the common room.

Heedless of the fact he had left his staff and outer robe in Varric’s room, Arden turned to follow, head swimming a little from all the wine he’d drunk that evening.

He glanced around the common room as he reached the bottom of the stairs, then headed out across the crowded room as he caught a glimpse of the red-head disappearing out the main door.

The night was dark but not too cold as he emerged into the fresh air, a cool breeze stirring the hair about his face as he glanced around the mostly-deserted street. Just as he was about to give up and go back inside, the red-headed figure stepped out into the street some twenty feet away. He stared at Arden then turned and strode away rapidly, long dark grey robes swirling soundlessly about his feet.

Arden gave chase.

The shadowy figure did not run, yet somehow it was always just out of reach up ahead, disappearing around the next corner as Arden rounded the turning. Several times he thought he’d lost the other mage, only for the silent figure to step out where he could see it before turning and moving on. It wasn’t long before Arden realised he was in a part of Lowtown he didn’t recognise, and he couldn’t remember how he’d got there. He was lost.

The figure stepped out again and lifted one hand, beckoning.

“Wait!” called Arden as he ran forward, trying to catch up.

The figure halted and glanced back at him, amber eyes glittering in the darkness. Arden drew closer. “Who are you?” he gasped, stopping a few feet away and bending over to rest his hands upon his thighs as he caught his breath.

The figure merely raised one hand to point over Arden’s shoulder. He glanced around, but there was nothing and no-one there. When he glanced back, he was alone. 

And utterly lost.

**

Fenris looked over his handful of cards and frowned. Arden had been gone far too long for a trip to the privy. "Arden should have returned by now, he was a little drunk but not that drunk." The elf said as he rose and grabbed his sword.

“His robe and staff are still here,” remarked Anders as he laid down his hand; he’d been losing anyway - as per usual. “Maybe he just passed out in the privy.” He rose to his feet and reached for his staff.

"I hope that's all that's happened." Fenris said as he headed down to the privy with the fear they would not find their wayward lover. He cussed vehemently when they found no sign of the apostate. "Well damn, where could he have gone?"

“I’ll get Varric and Isabela,” said Anders, eyes wide in worry. He sprinted back to Varric’s room and returned shortly after with the dwarf and Rivaini pirate in tow.

“I’ll send word to Aveline and get the word out,” said Varric as they hurried down to the common room. “How long ago did he leave?”

"Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes at the most." Fenris said as he walked. "Where the Void could he have gone that quickly?"

Varric collared Corff and had a brief word with him; there was the clink of coin and then Corff nodded, shouting for his errand boy as he moved away.

“Arden’s pretty fleet-footed when he wants to be,” remarked Anders. “I just don’t understand why he’d vanish like that.”

Isabela tugged at Anders’ arm. “Come on, one of those men near the door said Arden left and headed towards the docks. If we’re quick we might catch up to him.”

“Wait!” said Anders, reaching out to something snagged on the splintered wood of the door frame. He drew a few long blood-red hairs free, and glanced wordlessly at Fenris.

"Fuck...first find Arden, then we deal with _that._ " he said with an aggravated snarl. Fenris headed out towards the docks without another word.

Half an hour later they were stood aimlessly beside the water down by the harbour front. Various dockworkers had seen the blond mage pass that way not minutes previously, but there was no sign of the Champion. They’d rapidly gone through several warehouses along the way, but Arden appeared to have vanished into thin air.

“Wait - what’s that?” asked Varric. “That sounds like trouble.”

“It’s coming from over there - down that passageway,” replied Isabela as she drew her blades.

“Come on,” said Anders, unslinging his staff as he sprinted toward the entrance to the alleyway even as it lit up briefly from some kind of explosion further down.

They emerged to find Arden standing in the middle of a ring of attackers, half of whom appeared to be wearing what at first glance seemed to be templar armour. Two men with swords were rushing the unarmed mage from the side as he took down three in front of him with an undirected blast of raw magic. Blood stained the left sleeve of his white linen shirt and dripped from his outstretched hand as he gestured and scattered four men as they rushed him from the front with a fireball even as he was flanked from behind. Half a dozen men lay scattered dead around the mage’s feet.

Fenris' brands lit as he rushed to take on the Templars, his face a mask of rage as he attacked them. "You will not have him."

Beside him, Anders’ skin cracked open in blue-white fire, the apostate surrendering control willingly to Justice as the spirit surged within him. The loud distinctive twang of Bianca opening up fire announced Varric had joined the fray even as Isabela appeared suddenly behind an armoured man and took him down before she vanished again.

Arden cried out as a sword hit its mark, driving into his back just below his ribs. He lashed out blindly with a spirit blast, forcing the templars nearest him to recoil even as Fenris took the man’s head off then ripped apart the other templar in a spray of blood. The blond mage fell to his knees, twisting round and pressing his hand over the messy wound as he tried to focus enough to channel healing magic into the wound, drawing the torn edges of flesh together and knitting fresh skin over the cut. 

Over to one side, Justice was making short work of three templars whilst Isabela took care of two wounded men who had somehow survived a fireball at close range, ending their suffering with swift thrusts of her blades. Varric took down the last two with a volley of shots from Bianca.

“Anyone hurt?” called Anders, the blue fire dying from his eyes as he ran to Arden’s side. The blond Champion was kneeling in the dirt, grimacing as he ripped away the bloodstained linen from the sword cut that had opened up the barely-healed bite wound in his bicep. He closed his hand over the cut, pressing hard to stem the river of blood that ran down his arm.

Anders dropped to his knees beside his lover, laying his hand over Arden’s as he began to cast healing magic on his wounds.

Fenris came over and skidded to a halt, his expression flickered between worried and anger over Arden running out alone, unarmed and half pissed on the wine he’d been drinking all afternoon. 

“Love, we must discuss your habit of getting into these situations,” he said softly as he watched Anders work.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” said Arden, watching as the bleeding slowed. “Alcohol thins the blood, makes it bleed more.”

“Not by _that_ much,” snorted Anders.

“I saw him,” said Arden, glancing up at Fenris. “The red-headed Hawke. He led me here.”

The elf’s expression went flat at the mention of this mystery Hawke. “I think it’s more demon than a third, unknown Hawke roaming here. It probably wished to feed off you and lured you away. I do not like this preoccupation with a phantom red-head Arden.” 

“No, you don’t understand!” said Arden. “He’s not a demon, I swear it! He’s another Hawke - like Invictus and I. He needs something from me, I don’t know what. But I know he’s no demon. He didn’t send these men against me; he tried to warn me of them.”

“Hawke, these aren’t templars,” said Varric as he nudged one over onto his back with a toe. “The armour looks superficially like theirs, but close up a nug’s uncle would know the difference.”

“A set-up?” suggested Isabela.

“By who? If they are not templars, then who would have sent them after --” Fenris stopped mid sentence, remembering the skittish way Sebastian behaved earlier in the day. “We will find them Arden, no one will have you as long as I breathe.” Fenris finished, his gaze hard as he watched Anders complete his healing.

“That would explain why they didn’t lay a Smite on you when you took out half a dozen of them in one go with magic,” mused Anders as he helped Arden up to his feet and passed him his staff. Arden took it gratefully.

“Well, I guess game night is over,” remarked Varric as Isabela looted the bodies. “I’d suggest coming back for a nightcap but I think you’ve probably had more than enough already, Hawke.”

“He’s lost too much blood anyway,” replied Anders before Arden could respond. “I’m going to get him back to the estate.”

“Don’t I get a say?” asked Arden, affronted.

“No,” Fenris and Anders replied in tandem. 

“You are going to get a bath, then go to bed, Arden Hawke.” the elf said as he gave him a stern glare. “You nearly got killed and I...I just want you safe at home with us,” Fenris demurred as he helped Arden into his coat.

“Ooh, now that’s interesting,” said Isabela as she straightened, an unfolded note in her hand. “Why on earth would members of the mage underground be masquerading as templars to attack the Champion?”

“What??” exclaimed Anders. “Let me see that!” He practically snatched the piece of paper out of the pirate’s hand and scanned it, then began to circle the group of bodies, turning them all face uppermost as he studied them. “I don’t recognise a single one of them. These aren’t regular underground volunteers,” he said, shaking his head as he glanced back at the note. “But that’s Thr-” He bit his lip. “I recognise the mark, it’s genuine. But the order makes no sense. Someone must have forged this, but who? And why? It merely says ‘the blond apostate’ - that could mean either Arden or me.”

“We need to go home, and tomorrow we can delve into this more. It’s late, I’m about to scream in frustration and that note has added another layer of strange to an already bizarre day. Bring the note, and tomorrow perhaps Varric can visit so we can discuss this further?” Fenris was at the end of his admittedly short tether with all that had happened, and he didn’t like where his thoughts about everything led.

“Sure,” agreed Varric. “Come on, Rivaini. Hawke, we’ll see you three back as far as the gate to Hightown. I’ll tell Aveline to stand down the search parties.”

Arden waved a hand wearily. “There’s some mystery here, but I agree - it can wait until after we’ve rested. It’s not the strangest day I’ve ever had but it certainly ranks as out of the ordinary.” He took a step then staggered. “I... concede maybe I’m not feeling my best right now,” he admitted as Anders stepped swiftly to his side and flung a steadying arm around his waist.

“Thank you both for your help,” Fenris said with a nod to Varric and Isabela before he turned to take point and lead them home. Thankfully their trip back to the estate was quiet, and they were able to put Arden to bed with little fuss from the blond mage. He was weak from blood loss, and was drifting to sleep almost before his head hit the pillow, his face almost as white as the sheets.

“Anders, come to the study. I wish to discuss something with you before we retire.” 

Anders raised an eyebrow. Darting a glance back at the drowsy Arden whose eyes were fluttering closed, he nodded and followed the elf.

Once they were in the study, Fenris poured them each a measure of whiskey and handed a tumbler to his lover. He didn’t want to believe Sebastian would have a hand in bringing harm to Arden but everything pointed to the lay brother.

Anders stared askance at the glass but accepted it. “You’re about to tell me something I’m not going to like,” he remarked. “You know Justice rarely lets me drink. Should I be sitting down as well?”

“Probably,” said the elf before he knocked back his drink and poured another. “I suspect Sebastian having a hand in the attack on Arden. He was acting so strangely earlier and now faux members of the underground with orders to get either Arden or you? He’s never liked you, and ever since Arden was taken by templars, he’s been ...not right around us for lack of apt words in Trade.” There, he’d said it and there was no taking it back.

“You think Sebastian was behind....” Anders dropped heavily into a nearby chair, clutching his glass in hands that were suddenly shaking wildly. He hastily knocked back the fiery liquor. “Andraste’s ass, Fenris, I healed Arden after that attack. You don’t know the half of what they did to him....” His voice shook as he ran a shaking hand through his hair, his face pale. Abruptly he thrust the glass towards the elf. “More, please. I... can’t... Sebastian? Maker knows there’s no love lost between us, but....”

Fenris filled the mage’s tumbler then topped his own drink off. “It makes sense, I wish that it didn’t. But he’s acted strangely around Arden, all of us since the attack. Today he damn near fled after Arden asked his favor. Now this attack and those orders. I will tear his heart from him last if he had anything to do with this attack or the other one.” 

Anders fumbled the note out of his pocket and stared at it. “I need you to come with me to the Gallows,” he said suddenly. “There’s someone I need to speak to there, but I don’t dare go alone - not after this attack on Arden. I need someone I can trust to have my back.”

“Right now?” Fenris asked, his grip tight on his glass.

Anders shook his head. “No. This... I’m too shaken right now. I can’t think straight, and I need to have all my wits about me in that place. But tomorrow. Arden will likely sleep late after that healing; his body needs to replenish itself. We can go at first light.” He shook his head, the glass nearly falling from his fingers as he curled in upon himself. 

“Sebastian... I can scarcely believe it. We helped him track down his family’s killers. Arden has never done a thing to harm him. Why? Why him and not me?” He dropped the glass and buried his face in his hands. “It should have been me!”

Fenris crossed the room and pulled Anders into his embrace. “No, it shouldn’t have. Do not say such things. Come, let us rest in the spare room so Arden can rest without us crowding him. We can talk of other things until we fall asleep beloved.” He pressed soft kisses to Anders face to ease his distress.

Anders buried his face against Fenris’ shoulder. “I can’t stop thinking about his face when - after - the things that were done to him,” he gasped. “So familiar but they should never have happened to _him_. He was supposed to be safe! He’s the Champion!”

“You shouldn’t have been ripped from your family. I shouldn’t have been carved up by Danarius. No one is truly safe Anders, you know that.” Fenris stood and tugged his apostate lover to his feet. “Come beloved, we need to get some sleep tonight. Debating what if’s and shouldn’t have’s will keep us awake and away from your purpose on the morrow.” 

Anders let himself be let from the room. “But don’t you see?” he breathed as they entered the spare room. “If the templars can do that without fear of retribution to the _Champion_ , then what hope is there for any of us? Meredith could annul the circle at any moment and include Arden, and no-one would stand against her except we few. And what can we do against the might of the whole templar army in Kirkwall? The Chantry itself? She could come for me tomorrow and they’d go straight through you to get to me.” He paused and caught Fenris by the shoulders. “Fenris, if they come - let them take me. Keep Arden safe.”

The elf turned and grabbed Anders by the front of his robe until they were nose to nose. “Never, neither of you is expendable. My heart does not work that way and I will not sacrifice you for a fucking title that means little to nothing in this city. Never ask me such a thing again, you understand me Anders?”

“It’s you who doesn’t understand,” breathed Anders softly. “I have perhaps a score of years left to me, likely far less. You could keep him safe in a way I can’t. Better that you both live on without me, love; if they come, I can at least buy you enough time to get him to safety. Please.”

Fenris’ expression crumbled in anguish and he turned away so the mage could not see the tears that had started to well up. “No, it is you that does not understand. No matter how many years left to you before your taint has it’s due, I would be at your side and Arden’s. You will not decide who is better off alone, without you. Do not take that from me. I do not come by love easily, and I would not have it wrenched from my grasp in a fit of martyrdom from you.”

“I don’t want to die and have my death be meaningless,” replied Anders quietly. “I don’t want to fall to the darkspawn in some dark place in the Deep Roads when my Calling comes, but that is the fate that lies before me unless I choose another. Do not take from me the right to make that choice; should Meredith come for Arden and I, I will gladly die to keep both him and you safe.”

He turned away and began to strip off his robes, kicking off his boots. “I am tired,” he said quietly, and his voice sounded old. Fenris was suddenly acutely aware of how much older than both Arden and himself the former Warden truly was. “Let’s not talk of this any more.”

He let his clothes fall to the ground and left them scattered in his wake as he made his way to the bed, crawling between the sheets to curl up upon his side, watching Fenris as the elf undressed. The blond healer’s eyes were shadowed, his face drawn. Fenris’ suggestion of Sebastian’s involvement had unnerved him and shaken him badly - simply because in hindsight it seemed quite plausible. How else to explain the guilty look in the Stakhaven prince’s eyes each time they fell upon the Champion?

Anders felt trapped. There were invisible threads of myriad plots woven around and against them it seemed, unseen opponents who wished only harm upon Kirkwall’s saviour and those he surrounded himself with, and Anders felt powerless. That one of these unknown manipulators should be someone who had fought beside them - someone Arden had actually counted as a friend?

As Fenris climbed into bed beside him, Anders curled around him, burying his face against Fenris’ chest, and prayed for sleep to come soon as the elf lifted a hand and stroked his hair reassuringly.

The warm, gentle touch soothed him, and he slept.

Fenris lay awake long into the night, staring up at the canopy of the bed whilst Anders snored quietly.

**

Sebastian paced in his room as he considered whether he wanted to actually help Arden or perhaps slip away from Kirkwall and head back to Starkhaven where the champion wouldn’t follow. The guilt over his role in Arden’s torture had eaten at him for a long time; and with the apostate’s words, he felt it was just a matter of time before someone figured out he wasn’t a timely rescuer of the city’s champion.

He settled on his knees and asked for guidance, a sign, something as to what he should do. He knew that if Fenris and Anders learned of his part, that day would be his last. He’d given his word to Arden to assist in removing the Tranquil mage, but it went against his beliefs. Sebastian decided that he should keep his word to the Champion, after that he wasn’t sure what he’d do. 

With that settled, the noble archer crawled into bed for a few hours sleep before he was expected to serve in the confession booth until the seventh evening bell.

**

Sleep had settled over Arden swiftly, and with it came the dreams.

The confrontation with Sebastian and eliciting his support had stirred up all the memories again; it was perhaps inevitable that dreaming should find him back in that cell beneath the Gallows. He was immersed in blue eyes that regarded him sorrowfully as large warm hands held his comfortingly.

 _“It’ll all be over soon. I promise.”_ The archer’s lilting brogue washed over him through the waves of pain.

Arden closed his eyes against the memory of pain; when he opened them again, it was amber eyes that regarded him, framed by long loose blood-red hair. The blond apostate gasped in recognition.

“You,” he managed to croak through blood-flecked lips that a moment before had chafed around a leather gag. He stared down; the iron manacles about his wrist had vanished, though the bruises and lacerations remained even as he sensed they were now the only ones in the cell, the ghost-memories of Alrik melting away like mist even as the walls likewise melted away.

He straightened slowly, aware the other mage still held his hands.

“Who are you?” he asked softly. “Are you a demon?”

“You know who I am,” replied the other. His voice was quiet, melodic; almost familiar. It reminded him a little of Bethany.

“I know you appear to be a Hawke, as I and Invictus am. From yet another Kirkwall, I’d guess,” answered Arden slowly. “Which one?”

“I was called Endrin,” replied the red-headed Hawke.

“Was?” Arden caught onto the past tense. “You’re... a ghost?”

“In a manner of speaking,” replied Endrin, and smiled sadly.

“Fenris thinks you’re a demon trying to tempt me,” said Arden. Endrin shrugged.

“I have not offered you anything,” he pointed out. “If I were a demon, I would surely be trying to tempt you in some way, wouldn’t I?”

“You haven’t spoken to me before,” replied Arden.

“True.” Endrin bowed his head slightly.

“Why speak to me now? What’s going on?” asked Arden. Endrin released his hands and stepped away.

“The Veil is thin in Kirkwall - all the Kirkwalls,” he began. “It is... easy for a spirit to remain close to the living here.” He turned and began to pace slowly. “It is not so easy to reach them however, even with the Veil so torn and tattered.”

“Warn them?” asked Arden, startled. 

Endrin turned and nodded. 

“Endrin... how did you die?” whispered Arden.

“I was slain by the demon inside Merrill’s Eluvian,” replied the red-headed mage. “I was a fool, blinded by love; I gave her the arulin’holm, and I gave her my help. I paid for it with my life.”

“What happened to the demon?” breathed Arden.

“I managed to trap it between the Fade and beyond it with my last dying power,” replied Endrin. “But I fear it has escaped.”

“Escaped? How?” asked Arden.

“It followed Invictus through into your Kirkwall. And I think part of it remains there... but the rest of it followed him into his Kirkwall, and it will not rest until it has claimed and possessed a Hawke.” Endrin’s eyes hardened. _“Any_ Hawke.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demons like mages, truths come out, and there's a whole lot of awkwardness afterward.

Anders finished dressing then wandered downstairs. Bodahn hadn’t wasted any time in embarking on the repairs and clean-up, he noticed; the ruined carpet was already gone, the room cleared of furniture, and a large section of wooden flooring taken up. He suspected that might have been his fault, recalling his firestorm spell, and he winced. Firestorm inside - what had he been thinking? Not one of his smarter moves.

He made his way into the kitchen, deliberately not thinking about the foolishness of having tried to go toe-to-toe with the fear demon, and sat down at the table, stifling a yawn. He hoped he wouldn’t be sleep-fogged all day.

“Morning,” he managed between yawns.

“Morning” Invictus mumbled around the lip of his mug. He was still groggy, and despite their talk, still felt a hint of shame at what he’d overheard.

Fenris growled something that could have been hello or fuck off as he attacked his meal. The elf was not a morning person, especially after sleeping so deeply that he felt drugged and slow, despite being on his third mug of tea.

Anders dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes as he cast a quick invigoration spell on himself then smiled faintly at the rush of energy that seemed to chase away the mental cobwebs in seconds. Lifting his head, he glanced at Fenris then Invictus, trying to gauge which was the more approachable.

“Would you like a little pick-me-up?” he asked Invictus, deciding that he at least wouldn’t respond by ripping his still-beating heart out of his chest.

“Sure, this tea isn’t doing much to wake me up.” Vic said quietly before he glanced at his lover. “He’s not sociable in the morning, even with me.”

“One more word and I’ll beat you with your staff Vic. Don’t speak of me as if I am not here.” Fenris said before he drained his mug.

Anders gestured at Invictus, sending a wash of invigorating energy over the other mage that dispelled the last of the grogginess and left him feeling refreshed. Anders glanced at Fenris, swallowed nervously, then decided to put their new-found willingness to start over to the test. “Would you mind if I did the same for you, Fenris? I won’t use magic on you without your permission. But I could finish healing you up at the same time.”

Fenris stared at him for a while then finally nodded his assent. He didn’t like the slowness that was still lingering from using the potion.

It took more power and control to heal from a distance than if he’d simply touched the elf, but Fenris was already prickly enough as it was. Anders closed his eyes briefly, gathering golden and blue energies in a swirl in his hands before directing it at the elf. As the energy dispersed over Fenris’ skin, the multitude of cuts and scrapes from the previous day’s fight healed over even as the elf felt a rush of bright energy flow through him, waking him up and driving away the lingering aftereffects of the potion.

Anders opened his eyes as he lowered his hand and smiled hesitantly. “Better?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.” Fenris said quietly before he went back to his meal.

“Sorry love, I just...never mind.” Vic got a second helping and waved in the direction of the pots so Anders could help himself.

Anders didn’t need further prompting and rose to fill a plate, heaping it high with food before returning to the table and digging in. Mindful of how the others had reacted to his bolting his food the previous day, he made a conscious effort to eat at something approximating a normal eating pace, but it was hard to fight the instinct to just shovel it all in as quickly as possible. He took a mouthful of tea to help slow himself down.

Fenris had finished his plate by the time Anders was done with his first helping. He sat back and sighed contentedly. “Now that the demon is vanquished, what do we do next?”

Anders mopped up the grease on his plate with a piece of bread, fighting the urge to lick the plate clean. “I probably ought to get back to the clinic,” replied Anders. “Unless there’s anything else you need me for?” He glanced to Invictus.

Fenris smiled deviously at Invictus before he spoke in rapid Tevene to Anders, an unexpected invitation to call him _Ser_ again but with a different intent.

Anders’ face went momentarily blank with shock. Was the elf really suggesting...? His heart suddenly racing, he licked his lips and murmured in his most perfect “obedient” voice, “Yes, Ser,” before dropping his gaze demurely to the floor.

Invictus had frozen in place, the mug halfway to his mouth as he heard Fenris make the offer and he dropped it to the table when Anders accepted. “You...are you serious?” the mage said in shock.

“Yes, two powerful mages at my beck and call. Besides, we’ve spoken of occasionally adding a third to our games, why not someone you now call friend, my pet?” Fenris smiled at his lover, that predatory grin that Vic loved and feared. “Doubt me?”

“No ser.” Invictus muttered before he got up to clean the spilled tea and ponder what had come over Fenris. Being friendly to Anders was one thing, fucking him was another.

Anders, it seemed, was having similar thoughts. “Fenris...” He broke off and swallowed, then slipped into Tevene. “Ser... please tell me this is a game? You don’t... you don’t really feel that way about me. Do you? Or would this just be... something meaningless?” He felt troubled. It had been so long since he had lain with anyone, and it was true he’d had more than his fair share of meaningless fucks in his time. But he wasn’t sure that he could handle being just a toy for the mage and his elf, even if the thought of submitting to them both had his pulse racing and his head was already filling with delicious visions of all the things they could do to him.

Fenris came around the table and tilted Anders chin so the mage had to look at him. “If it was just a game, just a fun time for me and Vic, would you not wish to play? Or do you seek more than pleasure? I admit the idea came to me just now, so if you wish to consider the offer and come to us honestly, when you desire it, I will understand. I have thoughts that I would share with you and Invictus about my newfound interest in you tonight if you would return to us.” 

Anders found himself transfixed by the emerald gaze. He found his mouth had gone dry and he could not pull away. “What would you... do with me?” he breathed.

Fenris smirked and tightened his hold on the other man’s chin, just enough so Anders could not move as he spoke. “Make you pleasure me, or perhaps if you were good, allow you to play with Vic while I watched. Or if you can’t behave, then you could watch but not touch, denied release until I felt like you’d earned it. I would make you call out for a god you don’t believe in. Does that sound like something you’d desire?”

Vic didn’t say anything, he just watched them and wondered if Anders would even get out the door or if Fenris would drag them back to bed and keep both men under his thumb. He smiled just a bit, that perverse little thrill he got everytime he thought about how people assumed he was in control of Fenris, when the exact opposite was true. The elven warrior ran Vic around by the cock as easily as a calf led to slaughter.

The elf’s words were obviously having some effect on the blond apostate; his eyes were wide, and his arousal was clearly visible through the fabric of his pants, his breath quickening. “I...” he began but his voice trailed off, clearly caught in indecision and desire.

Fenris’ expression fell as he read Anders hesitation as indecision. “I apologize if I have been too forward, you do not ---”

Anders dropped to his knees before the elf and bowed his head in submission. He didn’t know what had come over him, but all he knew was he wanted the elf. More to the point, he wanted the elf to take him. Preferably right then and there. He panted, unable to speak.

“Well, I guess I read you wrong just now. Speak, what is it that you wish from me, from Invictus?” Fenris turned to his lover and waited to see what he had to say if anything.

“Take me, Domne. Both of you. Please. However you wish me,” breathed Anders, his voice filled with longing. A distant part of his mind was aghast at how needy and wanton he sounded, and at how fast this was all moving. It felt wrong, and yet somehow not. 

“Invictus, what do you want?” Fenris asked as he turned to watch how the mage at his feet reacted. Hearing Anders of all people call him master had affected the elf, but he wasn’t going to move without Vic’s word.

“I agree, can’t say I expected this when we woke up this morning. But if you desire it love, I will appease you. After all, you wear the pants in this family.” Vic glanced down to Anders then at his lover before he stood and cleared the table then sat down to await his lover’s instructions.

Anders stayed kneeling on the hard flagstone floor before the elf, awaiting his orders. He could feel his erection straining at his smallclothes, anticipation building. What are you doing?? The stray thought seemed almost out of place. He ignored it and licked his lips.

“You look good like that, but you’re too quiet. Speak Anders, what do you want from us? To be taken, used at my discretion? My cock, Vic’s? Talk to us.” Fenris adjusted his stance as he tried to keep from dropping his trousers and forcing Anders to suck him off right in the kitchen.

Anders swallowed hard. “Take me, use me as you wish. Let my mouth and my body service you, Domne. Bind my hands and fill me. I want to be taken by both of you at once... please. Ser.”

Fenris arched an eyebrow at the words that spilled from Anders lips. “That’s a bit much for the first time. But you can put that mouth to work while Vic strips you and prepares you to take one of us.” While he was aroused, he wasn’t as worked up as Anders seemed to be.

Vic smiled as he rose from his seat and tugged at the other mages trousers until they were down around his knees. “Boots, off Anders.”

The blond apostate obediently stripped off his boots, shedding his feathered coat and thin linen shirt swiftly before reaching up with trembling hands towards Fenris’ belt, freeing the elf’s member and leaning forward to flick his tongue over the tip.

“I said put your mouth to work, did you forget how to suck cock in the last few years? Open up and use your whole mouth...mage.” Fenris growled as he let one of his hands drift down to the long blond hair and the other rest on the table.

Anders’ lips parted and he took Fenris’ length into his mouth, relaxing his jaw until the head of Fenris’ cock was lightly grazing the back of his throat. Long practice in frenzied couplings behind closed doors, not to mention more forced encounters at times in his years in the Circle, all came back to him swiftly as he began to work the lyrium-lined cock expertly with tongue, lips and hands, fondling the elf’s balls with one hand as he sucked Fenris deep into his hot, wet mouth, lips reddening and becoming swollen as he closed his eyes, concentrating on pleasuring the elf. 

That got Fenris to react, he arched up on the tips of his toes and moaned from the wet heat and suction. He leaned back and fisted more of the mage’s hair in his fist before he started to guide Anders motions. “Close...fuck.” he moaned with each pull on his cock.

Vic was busy with a bottle of oil and two fingers deep in Anders ass. He had a fleeting thought that even a week ago he wouldn’t have touched Anders with a ten foot pole but now he wanted nothing more than to fuck the blond until he screamed himself hoarse.

Anders groaned and rocked back onto Invictus’ fingers, grinding them deeper, then hummed deep in his throat as the elf groaned louder, his hips snapping faster as the warrior began to rut into Anders’ willing mouth, each thrust pounding into the blond mage’s throat. Anders groaned again, feeling Invictus’ fingers slide and thrust deeper, scissoring inside and opening him up. He spread his knees a little wider, canting his hips so the other mage could reach deeper then moaned wantonly. All sense and coherent thought had fled from his mind.

Vic looked up at his lover, his domne and smiled. “What would you have us do ser?”

Fenris opened his eyes and grinned at his lover. “Fuck him, while I take you.” the elf growled as he reluctantly pulled away from Anders mouth. 

Anders whimpered as Fenris pulled away, then dropped his hands to the ground so he was braced on all fours, his body trembling with need. “Please,” he managed to gasp hoarsely.

Fenris tugged his hair and moved him so Anders was leaned over the table. “Better, Vic get to work.” he snarled before he pulled the bottle of oil from the darker mages grip and spread some on his fingers.

Anders braced himself against the table, spreading his legs wider, his cock hard and aching as it pressed against the wood.

“Good boys, both of you.” Fenris rasped in Vic’s ear as he stopped the other mage’s thrusts so he could enter his lover. “Make him scream for us pet.” he whispered in the Champion’s ear.

“Yes ser, yes.” Vic moaned wantonly as he was filled and took his time fucking Anders in tandem with his lover’s strokes.

Anders gave a low, needy cry with each thrust. After so long without, the Champion’s cock seemed to fill him incredibly tight and he felt stretched almost to the point of pain. He pushed himself up on tiptoes as he pressed his chest against the smooth wooden surface, crying out hoarsely as Invictus’ cock brushed the sweet spot inside with each thrust until his legs trembled. His neglected cock wept slowly as he felt heat coiling in his groin, slowly building. “More,” he managed to beg. “Please... anything...”

“Don’t… promise … too dangerous when he’s---” Vic’s words died with a resounding slap to his ass. 

“I’m always dangerous pet, don’t say another word.” came the low growl followed by a viciously hard thrust that nearly toppled them off the table. Anders cried out at the shock of the sudden thrust.

“Forgive me.” Vic gasped, as he felt Fenris go faster, harder which made his own thrusts into the blond mage under him erratic. 

Anders writhed against the hard table, his hips bruising with each pounding thrust against the wooden edge, gasping breathlessly now as he felt his orgasm rising. He reached down and gave himself a few firm, hard tugs and felt himself starting to fall over the edge. He was distantly aware he was babbling in a mix of Trade, Tevene and his own rarely used tongue. “Let me... please... I need...” he gasped.

“Let go.” Fenris hissed… “both of you.” as he gave up on holding his own orgasm back. 

Anders screamed his release as he came hard, spilling his seed over his hand and the floor as his body jerked and shuddered beneath Invictus before slowly going limp, the mage sprawled exhausted over the table as the other mage continued to pound into him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he heard laughter but he was too overwhelmed with sensations and the aftermath of climax to think clearly.

Vic didn’t scream but he did sink his teeth into Anders shoulder as he climaxed and filled the other mage. His eyes closed and he dropped his head between the other apostate’s shoulders as he tried to get his breathing back under control. He moaned softly as Fenris continued to fuck him faster, the elf’s climax close at hand. He called out as he felt the first spasm of his lover’s cock and didn’t stop until the elf stilled against him. 

“I wanna go back to bed.” he muttered tiredly.

Anders had cried out in shock at the sudden pain as Invictus’ teeth sank into his flesh, the other mage’s cock spasming inside him followed by the hot wet feel of his seed filling him; he moaned softly now beneath the other mage, his heart slowly returning to something approximating its normal speed. He could feel wetness trickling across his skin. “Think... ‘m bleeding...” he murmured.

Invictus licked the spot where he had bitten the other mage and murmured an apology before he pulled away slowly. “Bath, bed...tired.” 

Fenris muttered a swear as he pulled away from Vic slowly and stood up. “Next time, we do that in bed. My back’s killing me.” the elf grimaced and stretched out. “I’ll see you upstairs, both of you.” he picked up his clothes and went upstairs to wash up and flop into the bed.

Anders mumbled something before pushing himself slowly upright. His knees gave way and he fell heavily onto all fours. “Fuck,” he slowly enunciated. “I think you broke me.”

Invictus helped him up and put their clothes into the other mages hands. “Come on, we broke each other.” he mumbled as he led Anders up to the master bedroom and cleaned up before he crawled into bed with Fenris. “Night love.”

Anders stared at the two lovers in the bed together, suddenly filled with indecision. He wasn’t sure if the invitation also extended to sharing their bed afterwards. He clutched his clothes in his arms and stared at the bed then glanced at the door before looking back at Fenris and Invictus.

“Come lay down and stop gawking. We both just had you, no sense in being shy.” Fenris said as he curled around Invictus.

Anders blushed then set his clothes down before making his way around the bed. He slid into the bed behind Fenris, close but not quite touching. Wrapping his arms around his body, he drew his knees up as he curled in upon himself and closed his eyes.

Fenris sighed and rolled over to nudge at Anders. “Stop this, you just sucked my cock and Vic fucked you. Get in the middle, now.” 

Anders’ eyes flew open and he stared at the elf. He lay frozen for a minute until the elf shifted over, opening up a space between himself and Invictus. He stared from the elf to the mage, then silently nodded and carefully climbed over Fenris to stretch himself out on his back between them both. He cleared his throat.

“I apologise in advance; I have a tendency to snore,” he warned them quietly.

“I think I will sleep through it, I’m exhausted. Vic said as he settled down and smiled at his lover. “Thank you ser.” he muttered before his eyes slipped closed and he drifted off.

Anders stared up at the canopy, feeling sure he was too nervous to sleep; but after a short while exhaustion caught up to him and he, too, slipped into dreams, the lines of age upon his face smoothed away into guilelessness as he began to softly snore.

**

Fenris’ eyes opened as he sat up and looked over to the blond mage. The noise of his snoring had woken him from a deep sleep, but more importantly, why in the Void was he in their bed and why were they all naked?

The elven fighter shoved at the mage and hissed at him to wake up. “What are you doing in our bed?”

The snores ceased and a moment later Anders frowned slightly. “What?” He opened his eyes and stared at the elf. A moment later, the amber eyes widened in alarm and the blond apostate’s head whipped round to stare at Invictus, still asleep on the other side.

With a cry of alarm he sat up and pushed himself backwards until his back hit the headboard, staring at the elf with a look akin to terror. “Maker!” he breathed. “You - we -”

The elf’s eyes widened in realization of what they must have done. “Demons...had to be a demon.”

Anders winced as the soreness of his body registered, staring down at the bruises on his hips and suddenly aware of discomfort deep inside. “Maker, what did you do to me?” he whimpered, pressing himself against the headboard as he drew his legs up to his chest and stared at the elf wide-eyed. One hand stole to his shoulder and he glanced down at the bite mark, then at the traces of blood on his hand. “Is this.. did you... Maker, I’m bleeding!” His voice rose in panicked alarm.

Fenris’ mouth opened and then snapped shut. His usually strong, clear voice was a low whisper as he spoke. “I propositioned you, I ...I had the urge to do so at breakfast, and you and Vic agreed. You, you...we. But I thought you wanted…” the elf’s eyes closed and his face fell. “I’m so sorry Anders. Forgive me.” 

Fenris slipped from the bed and pulled his pants on before he sat on the edge of the bed. “I apologize, I would not have acted as I did if I’d thought you were not acting under your own will.” 

Fragments of memory were slowly coming back to Anders; kneeling upon the hard flagstone floor, his own voice murmuring “Ser,” Fenris’ hands snarled in his hair. The elf’s cock thrusting into his willing mouth. His hands splayed upon the table, hips bruising against the hard wood as Invictus pounded into him, his own wanton gasps. Begging to be allowed to come.

Remembered, too, the disquieting feeling at the start that something wasn’t quite right; the soft laughter he thought he’d imagined, in the back of his mind.

He wrapped his long arms around himself and pressed his forehead against his knees with a deep groan of embarrassment. “Well this is awkward,” he muttered. “With Justice a part of me, I was immune to demonic possession; I guess I fell out of the habit of recognising the warning signs. No wonder it was able to influence me so easily. But surely Hawke should have realised what was going on?” He lifted his head and glanced at Fenris. “Was I good at least?” His smile was weak and nervous.

Fenris choked back a sob as he sat there. “You were fantastic. But I assaulted you, I can only ask your forgiveness, however I don’t expect it.” 

“I don’t suppose it would ease your mind any if I told you I’ve had far worse? The year in solitary springs to mind, but there have been other occasions. I can’t even fully remember everything that happened, but from what I do remember I was enjoying it.” He tilted his head on one side, resting his cheek upon his knees. “If I’d been in my right mind, I would likely have been amenable. Though surprised. I honestly didn’t think you saw me like that at all. I was teasing you in the bath, but - well, frankly you’re a good-looking guy and I’d have to be blind not to have noticed. Or reacted to it. I’m only human, after all.” He smiled softly. “I forgive you. Though perhaps be a little gentler with me next time? I tend to freak out if I wake up bleeding.” He deliberately winked.

Fenris laughed but there was no humor in it. “Next time? I fully expect you or Vic to scream at me or worse.”

“Am I screaming?” asked Anders, a faintly mischievous light in his eyes. “Would you like me to?” He opened his mouth as if to follow through on his offer.

“Don’t!” Fenris said before he nearly leapt over the bed to keep the mage from screaming.

“Don’t what love?” Vic mumbled as he turned over and sat up. Then promptly tumbled backwards off the bed and stared at his lover and Anders. “Why are you here and naked? Why am I naked?”

“It’s an orgy,” deadpanned Anders. 

Fenris snorted as he fell forward on the bed, it was funny and he was at that place where it was laugh or cry.

“It’s a what?” Vic said in confusion. “Ow, why am I sore all over?” he muttered as he reached back and rubbed his backside.

“Do you want to tell him or shall I?” Anders raised an eyebrow at the elf, then turned and very pointedly stared down at the bitemark on his shoulder.

“You, I can’t right now.” Fenris muttered from his place on the bed.

Anders turned his head to rest the other cheek on his knee, his hair falling across his face so he was peering at Invictus from behind a curtain of dark blond hair. “The short answer is apparently demons find me tasty. As also apparently do you.”

“Another demon? This is getting out of hand, that’s it we’re moving. I don’t care where. Nevarra, I’ll even go to Orlais.” Vic muttered as he dropped his face to his hands.

“That won’t do much good if they’re attracted to you rather than the place,” replied Anders as he sat up straight and arched his back with a loud crack, wincing. “Maker, I am getting too old for all this,” he sighed.

“Me too, everything hurts.” Fenris said as he rolled to his back and stared upward. 

Anders snorted. “I’m a good ten years older than either of you two.” Flexing his fingers, he pressed his hands against the small of his back then sighed as healing magic eased the ache there and inside before reaching up to heal the bitemark, finishing off with a quick rejuvenation spell. He held up a hand glowing with blue healing power. “Who’s next?”

“Me.” Vic said from where he was tangled up in the sheets on the floor.

“I ought to bloody make you wait, I’m pretty certain it was you who bit me,” grumbled Anders as he gestured in Invictus’ direction. “The toothmarks are too wide to be an elf.” He turned to Fenris and raised an eyebrow for permission.

“Go on.” Fenris said, then sighed as he felt the small aches recede and the twinge in his back ease. “I’ll go down and make lunch if Bodahn isn’t already doing so.” the elf grabbed his tunic and escaped the room so he could avoid looking at either mage.

Anders rested his head back against the headboard. “Well.” 

“Well, this is awkward.” Vic demurred as he got up and joined Anders on the bed so he could be healed. “If you will still heal me, I’d be thankful. I’m sore all over.”

Wordlessly Anders laid a gentle hand on Invictus’ wrist and let warm, comforting healing energy flow into the other mage, soothing his aches, before following up with a light rejuvenation spell. “Awkward is an accurate way of describing it, yes,” he agreed. “Now what?”

“We all act awkwardly through lunch and hope a demon doesn’t come along for the ride?” Vic laughed softly before he grasped Anders hand in his. “I don’t know. I had fun, you had fun and I think Fenris did. I wouldn’t mind another time, when none of us are under unnatural influences.” 

Anders stared down at their hands and blinked. “You...” He glanced up at Invictus. “You’re serious? You... with me? You’d really want to?”

“You...it was nice. Granted we all were acting under demonic possession, but it was nice and you seemed to be enjoying yourself. If Fenris allows it, I’d like to again.”

Anders leaned back against the headboard again, leaving their hands entwined. “I can honestly say I never saw this one coming,” he mused quietly. “This is... a lot to take in, in such a short space of time.” He glanced sideways at Invictus. “You really are becoming more like Arden. It’s... uncanny.” He stared up at the canopy and sighed. 

“I’d like to do it again. Only... awake and fully aware. And... a little gentler. That was... a little brutal for my first time in....” He fell silent as he mentally worked out how long it had been since last he had lain with anyone, male or female. He swallowed suddenly, aware of just how lonely he’d been even with Justice as his constant companion; just how starved he’d been of physical affection. “Far too long,” he finished, voice thickening with emotion as he swallowed against a sudden lump in his throat, feeling a tell-tale prickling in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, your return to such pleasures shouldn’t have been like that.” Vic said softly as he finally withdrew his hand and leaned back. “Me more like Arden, I don’t know how to feel about that.” 

Anders laughed softly. “I threw myself through a demon-tainted mirror that had tasted his blood to follow Arden. You think I’d do that for just anyone? Trust me, more like Arden is a good thing. I’m not saying I’d throw myself through a mirror for you - well, not just yet. But... “ He ran a hand through his hair. “Andraste’s tits, I am making a nug’s ear of this....” He turned to Invictus. “What I’m saying is, you’re becoming a man I could... love. Maybe. Certainly one I want to know better.”

Vic turned away and blushed. “I’m not loveable, I’m not sure why Fenris does to be honest.” He slipped from the bed and started to hunt for his clothes in the heap of leather, linen and feathers that was by the bed. He didn’t do emotions well, and the other mage’s admission had hit him hard, but he didn’t feel comfortable enough to talk about such things with Anders...yet.

“We should get downstairs for lunch, I don’t know about you but I could eat a few nugs.” Vic tugged on his pants, then his tunic, careful not to let the blond apostate see his expression.

“You’ve seen me eat,” replied Anders as he disentangled himself from the bed and glanced around for his own clothes. “What do you think? The day I turn down food, you’ll know I’m seriously ill.” He started to dress.

“Warden appetite, I have no excuse. I’ll see you downstairs Anders.” Vic scooted out of the room and went downstairs. He came up behind Fenris and hugged the elf as he apologized for not seeing what was going on. 

“I’m sorry love, I’m sorry, forgive me.” the dark skinned mage rested his chin on Fenris’ shoulder and held him close.

“Nothing to forgive, I hope you had a good talk when I fled like a thief. I apologize for that beloved.” Fenris said before he turned and kissed Vic’s cheek. “Now as much as I enjoy your touch, I can’t cook with you wrapped around me.”

Anders trailed downstairs, fiddling with the buckles on his coat as he wandered into the kitchen. He glanced around then took a seat at the table. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

“Pour the tea if you would, and set the table. Vic, can you reach the plates please?” Fenris said as he finished frying up potatoes, leeks, what was left of the roast boar they’d had the night before and a root vegetable he never remembered the word for in Trade.

Anders rose from the table and fetched mugs then poured tea for them all “That smells good,” he said appreciatively as his stomach rumbled loudly.

“Thank you, I’ve taken up more domestic skills since my escape. Road rations can only take one so far.” Fenris said as he dished up their food and then sat between Invictus and Anders. “I hope the…” he blinked and then speared a cube of root vegetable to hold up. “That these things are cooked all the way through.”

Anders leaned over and bit the cube of vegetable off the fork, crunching it appreciatively. “Mmm. Rutabaga. Done just perfect.” He grinned at the elf.

“That is such a stupid word, no wonder I can never remember it in Trade.” Fenris said as he went back to eating after a slight smirk at Anders. He couldn’t argue about the mage eating off his fork, not after he’d shoved his cock down the man’s throat at the same table hours earlier.

“It’s _rapinefa_ in Tevene. They’re like a form of turnip,” replied Anders. “You can cook the leaves too, as greens. We ate a lot of them back in the Anderfels.” He tucked into his food with relish.

Vic didn’t pay them much attention, he was starved but he needed more tea. He got scooted his chair back to get up, but whacked against the counter. “Why is my chair that close to the counter?” he muttered,then promptly slipped and nearly hit the ground when he moved toward the kettle.

“What in the V---” Invictus swore as he looked to see what he slipped in, then shut his mouth when he saw the slick spot from their earlier coupling. “I ...I’ll be right back.”

Anders glanced down. “What is....” His expression went blank. “Is that what I think it is?” he said, his voice carefully neutral.

Fenris leaned over and shrugged. “Yes, I think Vic managed to slip on your mess and went to get something to clean it up.” He looked at the mage’s surprised expression. “I saw much, much worse spilled in Minrathous. I still have nightmares of the last Saturnalia party I was forced to ...participate in.” the elf skirted the stain on the floor and got a second helping.

Anders stared at the edge of the table and slowly ran his hands along it, then deliberately splayed his hands on its surface, either side of his plate, as more memories from earlier resurfaced in his mind. “Oh,” he said. “Ah.” He stared at his plate, then returned to eating. “Minrathous sounds... um.”

“I will speak no further on it, just know what we did was nothing against the depravity I have witnessed and had forced upon me. I’m done, if one of you can wash dishes, I am going to have a long, hot bath. Then we should discuss what to do about all of these demons that are manifesting, as well as what Vic saw in the Fade.” Fenris scraped his plate into the middens bucket and headed off to the bathing chamber just as Invictus returned. He pressed a kiss to his lovers cheek before he moved away.

Anders shrugged off his coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves then stacked up the plates and carried them to the sink. He started to pump in water, heating it with a gesture before starting to scrub. “Sorry about the, er, mess on the floor,” he remarked quietly, glad he had his back to the other mage so Invictus wouldn’t see the blush that spread across his cheeks.

“It’s fine, I’m sure Bodahn would have gotten it cleaned up by dinner if I hadn’t ah, stepped in it. No harm done, did you and Fenris talk much before I woke up?” Vic asked as he took the dishes and dried them off as the other mage washed them. 

“Well, at first I was freaking out. As was he I think. I couldn’t remember what had happened; most of it is still rather hazy. It sounds like you remember more, which makes me suspect I was the one who was most susceptible to the demon. Which bothers me,” he added. “He apologised and said he wouldn’t have done it if he’d known I was being influenced like that. I... explained I wasn’t entirely adverse to a repeat, as long as he used me more gently next time.” He glanced sideways at Invictus. 

“Maybe less biting?” he suggested. “Waking up to find I was bleeding was what freaked me out the most I think. That and not knowing how I got there or what had happened to me. What actually happened... well, far worse happened to me in the Tower.” He shrugged, then pulled the plug from the sink and shook water off his long slender fingers.

Vic nearly dropped the plate he was drying at Anders words. “Worse...the Circle isn’t what I’ve thought is it?” he said when he dropped back into his seat.

“No, it isn’t,” replied Anders sombrely. “You’ve seen my back. I spent a year in solitary - where my only visitors were templars, and no-one much cared what they did to me. If I was lucky, they even took their gauntlets off first.” He turned away. “It’s....” He shook his head. “You never believed me, did you? I’ve only ever told you the truth, Hawke. Sending apostates to the Circle isn’t a kindness. You would have done better to slit their throats than hand them over to the likes of Alrik - and there are many, many Alriks in the world.” He glanced back with a sad smile. “And far too many Ellas.”

“I see that now, I apologize Anders.” Vic said solemnly as he called up a bit of ice in his hands and toyed with it.”I guess it did take a miracle to change my mind. Who would have thought even six months ago we’d end up in my kitchen, talking about mage problems like this after we’d shagged each other senseless just hours before.” 

Anders turned and leaned his back against the sink. “You understand now that I wasn’t whining. And I’m not telling you this now to make you feel bad - or sorry for me. Maker knows, the last thing I want is anyone’s pity. It won’t change what happened to me or what I’ve suffered. But maybe now you can understand just why I’ve tried so hard to open your eyes. You’re the one real hope the mages of Kirkwall have, and I can’t do this alone anymore.” 

“I’m no hero, I can barely keep my shit together no matter what pedestal people put me on Anders. I don’t know what I can do to help, Meredith allows me to be free only because of what I’ve done to help her imprison mages. Sebastian would turn me in if he thought I was no longer unsympathetic. What can I even do?” Vic said as he dispelled the small rock of ice and huffed in annoyance.

“Please stop persecuting us,” begged Anders softly. “Turn a blind eye. Only go after the blood mages, the ones that are the real danger.” He approached Invictus and abruptly dropped to his knees at his feet. “Please,” he whispered. 

“Get up, stop doing that it’s ...don’t do that.” 

Fenris walked in and stopped in his tracks. “Switching things up on me?” he said with a bit of a leer at the two mages.

Anders glanced up at Fenris, then glanced up at Invictus. “Please,” he repeated in a whisper. “I’m begging you.”

“Get up, for fucks sake get up!” Vic said as he backed almost out of his chair. “I’ll do it, I’ll stop persecuting mages, just get up for Maker’s sake.” 

Anders glanced at Fenris again then nodded, slowly pushing himself back upright before dropping into a seat. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

“What were you begging for Anders?” Fenris said as he dropped into a chair between them again.

“For Hawke to stop persecuting mages. Just... turn a blind eye. Take the blood mages in, the ones who are an actual danger - but just... let the rest of us go.” He dropped his head into his hands and gave a tremulous smile. “I swear, whenever I heard them coming for me at the clinic, I’m not sure which thought terrified me more - that it might be templars, or that it might be you two. Templars I might have a chance against. You two? I could only pray I’d be able to make you angry enough to kill me outright.” He raised his head slowly. “Now I only have the templars to worry about again.” He grinned suddenly and laughed.

Vic and Fenris shared an uneasy look between them. The mage didn’t respond, he just put on the kettle for more tea. He didn’t know what to say to Anders words so he kept silent. 

Fenris looked to the blond apostate and tapped his fingers restlessly. “It’s not really funny when you think on it.”

The smile slipped from Anders’ face as he glanced from Fenris to Invictus, growing nervous as the mage remained silent. “I... I only have to worry about templars now. Right?” He glanced back to Fenris. “What you both said earlier - that wasn’t just a joke, some trick - right?” He shoved his seat back from the table, staring back at Invictus with fear. “Hawke, please, tell me this - this isn’t all some cruel trick?”

“It’s not a trick, I’ve changed honestly Anders. I just…” Vic ran his hands through his short, dark hair in frustration. “I’m not used to feeling guilty alright?” 

Anders glanced to Fenris, then back to Invictus, then dropped his head to his hands with a low, shaky laugh. “Please don’t do that to me,” he muttered. “I thought my heart was going to stop for a minute.”

“I think after we all fucked earlier, you’d not think I’m going to toss you to Cullen and laugh as I walk off. You begged for us to both take you at once, you’ve been a guest here for a couple of days, and Maker Anders...I have changed, I’m not...I...fuck.” Vic broke off and walked out, frustrated and surprisingly hurt that the other mage might think he would _still_ do him harm after the last few days events.

Anders leapt to his feet and ran after Invictus. “Hawke... Invictus, wait!” he cried. He caught Invictus’ wrist as he drew level with him in the foyer. “You don’t understand,” he said urgently. “If you had - you wouldn’t have been the first. I’ve been running for a long time; it’s... it’s not easy to get to grips with the idea that maybe I don’t have to anymore. That I can trust someone again, beside the voice in my head.” He stared into Invictus’ eyes. “Please, give me a little time for this all to sink in. I’m trying. I want to try. Just... give me a chance. Please.” He shook his head sadly. “When you’ve been running scared for so long....”

He gazed into the other mage’s eyes, tongue darting out to run nervously over his lips. Then he lifted his hands to cradle Invictus’ face and kissed him, all nervousness and lightly flicking tongue, lips parting beneath Invictus’, inviting him in without pressing him. Nerves and desperation.

Vic stiffened at first then relaxed into the kiss until he needed to take a breath. Anders released him and opened his eyes, gazing earnestly at Invictus.

“I’ve been an idiot,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“I think that’s my line.” Vic said quietly. 

Fenris coughed behind them and looked between the two mages. “I need to run errands, and you two may...continue your talk while I am away. This is mage business and I would prefer not to be a part of it. Just know you are safe with us Anders, and we both have changed hopefully for the better.” 

“I understand,” Anders responded. “Mage business. I... I’ll try to remember to keep it to a minimum when you’re around. I remember I was... rather intense before about it all. It’s different now without Justice goading me on, but... if I get too much, please just say the word. I’ll try to remember.” He glanced at Invictus. “Hit me if I’m an ass about it and forget,” he suggested.

“No, I think you’ve had enough people hitting you in your lifetime.” Vic said quietly. He went to Fenris and kissed him deeply and thanked the elf for being understanding. “I love you.”

Anders shrugged. “Sometimes I might even like it,” he joked. “In the right circumstances. You know, candlelit dinner, bed.... And I’m going to shut up now,” he added hurriedly. “That, uh, is unless you wanted to. Um. Maker, am I making this worse or better?” he asked, scratching his head. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Candelit dinner and spankings come after we expel the demons.” Fenris said with a straight face as he walked past them. “For now, just a spanking if you don’t behave mage. I shall return shortly, do not get into too much trouble, else you will get it when I discover what you have done.” Fenris didn’t smile, didn’t even seem like he was joking as he left them with a glare and a barely there smirk.

“I don’t know whether to be scared or turned on,” remarked Anders.

“Both, both is usually accurate.” Vic said as he watched the door shut. “So, ah...you were saying?”

“That I’m an idiot. Also that I’d like to kiss you again. And anything else you might have in mind.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where there's a trip to the Gallows, games played with Fade stepping, and feelings get all over the floor

Fenris woke up and groaned at the daylight streaming into the room. He’d barely slept as it was and the idea that he was to go with Anders to the Gallows for mage business did not start his day off.

Anders turned and glanced at him from where he stood by the window. It was obvious he had been awake for some time already; he was fully dressed, his staff in his hands, face gaunt and haunted. “I’m not sure if I should leave my staff behind,” he said quietly. “It does rather scream ‘I’m a mage’, and we won’t have Arden there to give me protection. I feel almost naked without it though.” He dropped his gaze to his hands where they rested on the haft of the staff. “I feel sick,” he said quietly.

“Anything that will not draw attention will be wise. Have something to eat while I get ready so you do not make yourself sicker.” Fenris drawled, his voice thick with sleep.

Anders nodded, and carefully set his staff in the corner. “If I’m going to throw up, it’s better not to do it on an empty stomach,” he agreed. “I’ll see you downstairs.” He cast a last glance at the staff then left the room.

Fenris grunted at him and finished getting ready. After a quick wash up he stopped by to check on Arden, but the mage was still sound asleep.

Anders stood by the sink in the kitchen. A fresh pot of tea was upon the table; Anders had a steaming mug in one hand, a piece of dry toast in the other which he was attempting to choke down. He glanced up as Fenris entered, then dropped his gaze back to his mug of tea and took a sip.

“Thanks for the tea.” Fenris said before he took his own toast and put jam on it.

Anders merely nodded, glanced at the toast in his hand, took a deep breath and then took another bite. Food was the last thing he wanted right now, but he knew Fenris was right - he needed to eat. He hoped that perhaps the fresh air in the ferry on the way to the Gallows would help settle his stomach a little, but at thought of entering the Gallows his stomach gave a rebellious lurch.

He must be mad. Walking into the Gallows in broad daylight without Arden’s protection had to count as one of the most reckless things he’d ever contemplated doing (not the most reckless; diving into Lake Calenhad on a freezing cold Autumn day likely took that spot), but that note had come from someone who knew Thrask’s mark, and that meant not only Arden but possibly the whole mage underground was under threat. A queasy stomach would be a small price to pay for putting paid to any threat to his fellow liberators and rebels.

He glanced at Fenris. “We’ll try to avoid any of the templars; this early, most of them should be in the Chantry at prayers with just a small handful to watch the courtyard. The market should be just setting up. Thrask is normally on duty this morning so with any luck we can be in and out in no time.”

“Very well, lead on then.” Fenris said as he grabbed another piece of toast to eat on the way.” 

Anders tipped the remainder of his tea down the sink and dropped his half-eaten toast into the midden bucket before reaching automatically for the staff that was customarily slung on his back then checked himself. He nodded to Fenris. “Let’s go.”

The boatride to the Gallows was uneventful. Anders glanced round as they passed through the gate, then made his way towards the market stalls. He paused by the herbalist stall.

“Hello, Solivitus,” he said quietly. “Is Thrask around? I need-”

“- fresh elfroot? Yes of course, the finest!” replied the herbalist as he glanced over the apostate’s shoulders. “Knight-Lieutenant Cullen, good to see you this fine morning!”

Anders froze and darted a sideways glance at Fenris.

“Anders?” asked Cullen. “What are you doing here - and without the Champion?”

Anders turned slowly. “Buying elfroot,” he replied as Solitivus thrust a bundle of the herb into his hand. “See? Solitivus sells the freshest in Kirkwall.” The herbalist beamed even as Cullen frowned, glancing at Fenris.

“I see,” replied Cullen. He tapped a gauntleted hand on the hilt of his sword as he regarded Anders suspiciously. Anders didn’t dare glance at Fenris as he felt the elf stir at his side.

“Anders is a very good and valued customer, Ser Cullen,” interjected Solitivus, lightly emphasising ‘valued’. Cullen narrowed his eyes.

“Very well. I advise you to conclude your business and be on your way, Anders.” With a nod, Cullen turned away.

Once he was out of sight, Anders turned and practically collapsed with relief, clutching at the table. “Maker, that was close. I was sure he was going to try to take me in.”

Fenris growled low and deep at Anders side. “He’d lose his head if he tried. You are not a dog, and you do not need his allowance to come and go. This isn’t Kinloch Hold.” 

“No, it’s not; it’s the Gallows and you don’t exactly get wanted apostates waltzing in through the front gates on a daily basis here,” replied Anders. He lifted his head and glanced at Solitivus. “Thrask?” he asked.

Solitivus gestured. “You will find him in his usual post. That’ll be four silvers for the elfroot.” He slid a small one-dose potion bottle across to Anders. “The anti-emetic is free. It would be bad for business were you to throw up over my merchandise.” 

Anders did look rather green. He fumbled four silvers from his pouch and palmed the small note the herbalist slipped him in exchange before picking up the elfroot and potion. “My thanks,” he breathed. Solitivus inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“Come on,” muttered Anders and turned away.

Fenris walked side by side with Anders until they spotted Thrask at his usual station. “I am with you beloved, do not fear.” he whispered to his mage.

“You have no idea how thankful I am for this love,” replied Anders. 

“Show me later, once Arden is awake.” Fenris said as he stood close to his lover while Anders conducted his business with Thrask.

The templar was surprised to see Anders in the Gallows without the Champion, but not as surprised as he was by the small note the apostate showed him.

“This is my mark, but that is not my writing,” he said in a hushed tone. “Leave this with me. I can assure you this did not come from anyone within our group.”

“Then we have a leak somewhere,” replied Anders grimly. “Someone who wants to make it appear we have designs against the Champion.”

“I will deal with this, you have my word,” replied Thrask. “I will reach you through the usual channels. You took a grave risk coming here like this.”

“I know,” replied Anders. “We just ran into Cullen.”

Thrask drew his breath in with a hiss and Anders raised a hand placatingly. “I know, I know. But I felt this was urgent enough I needed to come in person.”

Thrask nodded, then glanced at Fenris.

“You can trust him,” said Anders. “I do - with my life.”

Thrask raised an eyebrow but merely nodded again. “Then I trust we may all do so, Anders. There is more than your own freedom at stake here.”

“I know,” replied Anders bleakly. 

He turned and nodded to Fenris.

“The Champion and Anders are under my care serah, they will not come to harm with me.” Fenris gave Thrask a slight dip of his head then looked to his lover. “We should return home, Arden will awaken soon and wonder where we are.”

“No arguments from me, I can’t get out of here quick enough,” muttered Anders as with a last nod to Thrask he strode towards the gate.

“Just know that if Cullen so much as looks at you askance, I will kill him with prejudice and a smile.” Fenris muttered as they walked.

“I don’t think Cullen will actually do anything unless he actually catches me in the act of casting magic without Arden around - or if Justice gets loose at a really bad time. He’s not a bad sort; he was one of the better ones at Kinloch Hold. He just... he’s a templar.” He shrugged as they headed down to the ferry.

About half-way across the harbour, the adrenaline suddenly caught up to Anders and he abruptly doubled over, clutching his stomach, before retching over the side of the boat.

Fenris dug into his pouches and got the anti-emetic that Solvitius had given them. “Here, take this.” 

Anders retched again and spat bile into the murky waters before reaching back with a trembling hand to accept the potion with a low groan. He knocked it back in one then shakily pushed himself back upright, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Said I felt sick,” he mumbled and tried to smile.

“I’m sorry, the run in with Cullen didn’t help I guess.” Fenris said as he rubbed the mage’s back in a circular motion.

“Well at least it’s over,” he said quietly. “Let’s get back to the house. I think I need to lie down until I stop shaking. I think the only thing that could have made that worse would have been running into Meredith herself.”

“Hush, you’ll summon that she-devil if you speak of her too loudly.” Fenris said in an attempt at humor. “We’ll get you home, then perhaps we all can take a nap, I’m not doing well either. I ...didn’t fall asleep until close to sunrise.” he admitted quietly.

Anders shot him a glance. “Insomnia is catching it seems,” he remarked quietly. “Thank you for coming with me, love.”

“Not insomnia, fear.” Fenris said, his gaze on the floorboards of the boat as they approached the docks.

“Fear?” asked Anders as he stepped up onto the quayside, his long legs giving him an advantage in crossing the gap between boat and shore. He reached back a hand to Fenris.

“Fear...despite what others think, I do have emotions.” Fenris said as he took Anders hand and stepped across the gap. He was quiet as they walked, his mind still turning over his lovers request to spare Arden rather than him if things went sideways.

“I never said you didn’t, love,” replied Anders as he slung an arm around the elf’s shoulders, mindful of the spikes on his leather armour. “You always seemed the most fearless of the three of us though.”

“Not you, others seem to think I am devoid of feelings. Never mind, it is not conversation for the open street. I am tired from all that has happened and lack of sleep; don’t mind me.” Fenris said as he put his arm around his lover’s waist.

“Would you like something to help you sleep love?” asked Anders as they turned under the arched gateway leading into Hightown. “I know you’re not keen on magic but I have a potion I use sometimes when the nightmares are bad....”

“I’m so tired, I would even let you cast sleep on me. I’m hitting a point where I need sleep or a strong drink or both before I am right.” Fenris admitted as they took the stairs towards the estate. 

The house was quiet as they entered, though distant sounds from the kitchen suggested Orana was busy. Arden was still asleep when they peered round the bedroom door.

“Here or the spare room again?” whispered Anders.

“Here, I wish to awaken with you both. Though he’ll likely stir before we do if this potion of yours is effective. Leave him a note so he is not concerned if we do not come awake when he does.” Fenris pulled his armor off and put it on the stand, and stripped down to his leggings before he crawled into bed next to their lover.

Anders shrugged out of his coat and tunic, tugging off his boots as he dropped into the chair by the desk before reacting for a small chest of potions. Taking out a dark glass bottle, he carefully measured out a finger of dark green liquid into one small cup, and half-filling a second before writing out a quick note. Crossing to the bed, he handed the smaller dose to Fenris.

“It’ll act pretty fast. You should be out for a good few hours on that dose,” he said quietly as he stretched out on the other side of the sleeping Arden. He downed his own dose, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste, then set the cup aside on the bedside table as he lay back against the pillows.

Fenris nodded and took his dose, a question about why Anders had given himself so much on his tongue, but held fast when he fell asleep moments after taking the dark green liquid in one shot. Anders was already deeply asleep - so deep that his breathing was utterly silent.

**

Arden rubbed his eyes and blew a lock of dark gold hair away from his face. The sunlight streaming through the window was hitting him full in the face; it must be later than he thought. Sitting up, he glanced to his right and smiled fondly at the sleeping elf. He bent over him and gently bestowed a kiss on Fenris’ cheek. 

“Morning lazybones,” he chuckled, then frowned as Fenris didn’t stir. “Love?” He patted Fenris’ cheek then grew alarmed as the elf remained deep in slumber. He shook Fenris, gently at first then harder, growing more concerned by the minute as the elf remained unresponsive. 

He turned and glanced at Anders, who was stretched out on top of the covers, still clad in shirt and pants. The healer lay on his back, head turned a little towards Arden, hands folded upon his breast and completely dead to the world.

“Maker, not you too!” Arden breathed as he bent over Anders and shook him hard. The mage was a dead weight in his hands as he wrestled to sit him upright. “Anders, wake up!” he shouted in his face, but the apostate did not so much as twitch a muscle, his face slack in sleep.

Laying Anders back down, he concentrated and drew upon his mana, casting a rejuvenation spell upon the unconscious mage. Anders’ lips parted and a faint frown briefly crossed his worn features before his brow smoothed over once more.

“Andraste’s flaming crotch-droppings,” growled Arden as he turned and cast a stronger rejuvenation spell on the elf, and was rewarded by a frown as the elf stirred faintly and muttered something in Tevene.

Arden rose from the bed and glanced around the bedroom as he waited for the elf to slowly rouse himself; his eye fell upon the note on the desk and he snatched it it up, scanning the neatly-scribed lines swiftly before glancing back at Anders. 

“You utter ass,” he muttered as he picked up the empty cup on Anders’ side of the bed and sniffed the dregs. “Deathroot? You bloody idiot Anders. How much did you take? How much did you give Fenris?”

There was no answer; he expected none. He circled round the bed and stared anxiously down at Fenris as the elf turned his head upon the pillow, eyes still closed.

Fenris muttered something rude in Tevene as he fought the feeling of waking up as long as he could but soon his eyes opened to see Arden looking worried. “Hmm, what is it?” the elf said in a rasp. He felt slowed down, not really able to think for some reason.

“How much did Anders take, Fenris?” asked Arden, eyes dark with worry. “It’s late afternoon. I can’t rouse him.”

“Sleep potion, we both took some. He only gave me a little bit. Why are you shouting?” Fenris asked while he struggled to sit up in their bed. 

“Because there’s deathroot in that potion and he’s deep under. Listen.”

“I took it too, and you woke me up.” Fenris muttered, annoyed at being roused from a deep, dreamless slumber. “I barely slept last night Arden.” 

Arden reached down and grasped Fenris by the shoulders, bodily dragging the elf upright and shaking him hard. “How.Much. Did. He. TAKE?” he growled angrily. “I can’t wake him up and he’s so deep under, he’s not snoring because he’s barely breathing!”

Fenris’ brands flared in reaction to him being shaken and he snapped awake at the sound of Arden’s fear. “Stop shaking me right now Arden Hawke.” 

Arden snatched his hands away hastily and stepped back. “I need you to tell me how much he took, Fenris, so I know what to counteract it with,” he said, willing his voice to a calmness he didn’t feel.

“I think half of that mugs worth. He took his dose and was out before I could even ask him why it hit him so fast.” Fenris crawled over to Anders and listened to his heartbeat for a moment before he looked at his lover. “His heartbeat is strong and steady, I think the potion is meant to keep him deeply asleep so he does not dream.” 

Arden crossed to the potion box and pulled out the small dark bottle. “Was this what he took?” he asked, holding it up. When Fenris nodded, he uncorked the bottle then took a cautious sniff. “Deathroot. Valerian. Something else... chamomile?” Setting the bottle down he rooted through the box for a deathroot antidote then brought it back to the bedside. “This is something Elegance gave me a while ago; it’s supposed to be a general antitoxin. She suggested it might come in handy in case I accidentally poisoned myself on any of her wares. Hopefully a dose of this and another rejuvenation spell will bring him out. Has he taken anything else today?”

“Something for nausea that Solvitius sold him. We went out on errands while you were asleep, and he got ill on the boat ride back.” Fenris avoided mentioning what all their errands were, just that they went out.

“What did it contain - do you know?” asked Arden as he lifted Anders up with an arm about his shoulders. Anders’ lips parted as his head fell back, and Arden was able to gently trickle a little of the antidote into his mouth. As the liquid hit the back of his throat, Anders swallowed spasmodically. 

“No, I do not. I’m sorry Arden.” Fenris stretched out and watched his lovers, concern in his gaze over how Anders would react to being awakened before he’d slept as much as he’d hoped.

“I’m wondering if there was some sort of reaction between Solivitus’ potion and his sleeping draught,” replied Arden. “Anders is an experienced healer - far more than I am. I can’t imagine him accidentally overdosing himself like this even when tired.” He trickled a little more of the potion into Anders’ mouth and the unconscious mage reflexively swallowed again, his breathing a little easier.

“I think he took what he did on purpose Arden, he would not poison himself intentionally nor give it to me if it was harmful.” Fenris said quietly. “Will that make him wake up?”

“You think he would take enough to impair his breathing on purpose?” asked Arden incredulously. “Why would he need to sleep that deeply?” He glanced down at the unconscious mage in his arms as he set the potion aside. “If I cast a rejuvenate on him then yes, he should awaken.” He hesitated and glanced up at Fenris.

“I don’t think he meant to impair his breathing. I think he’s going to be confused and possibly irritated that you woke him from such a sound sleep beloved.” Fenris watched from his side of the bed, looking more like an indolent cat than a fearsome warrior.

“It’s only a couple of hours until sunset,” replied Arden. “You think he really meant to sleep the whole day away?”

“I don’t know, ask him once he’s awake.” Fenris said, his gaze flicked between the two mages as he waited for Arden to bring Anders around.

Arden stared down at Anders, then gently laid the sleeping mage back down upon the bed, brushing a loose strand of hair away from the closed eyes. “No,” he said quietly. “If he needs rest that much, let’s leave him be. Maker knows he gets precious little enough sleep between the mage’s underground and that clinic of his.” He sat back then glanced at Fenris. “Why were you so tired and yet needed the potion? I didn’t know you’d been having trouble sleeping love?”

“I had a bout of insomnia last night. We slept in the guest room so we wouldn’t crowd you but I couldn’t sleep despite my best efforts.” Fenris didn’t want to admit what had kept him awake, it would just worry Arden unnecessarily. 

“I was pretty much out for the count,” replied Arden ruefully. “I....” He paused and gazed at Fenris, trying to gauge the elf’s possible reaction to his next statement. “I dreamed of the red-headed Hawke. His name is Endrin. Or rather, was.”

“I wish you would let this demon alone before it consumes you beloved. I do not wish to lose you to this...preoccupation.” Fenris said with a bit of heat in his voice.

Arden closed his eyes against the look in Fenris’ face. He’d been afraid of this precise reaction. “He’s not a demon,” he said slowly. “He’s a ghost. He was killed by a demon... and he says that demon followed Invictus into our Kirkwall. Part of it stayed here when Vic went back - and the rest followed him.” He opened his eyes and stared at Fenris. “I’m not the one in danger, love,” he added. “Vic is. The demon wants a Hawke to possess - and it’s not particular about which one.”

“It’s not like we can just pop over to the other Kirkwall to warn him.” Fenris rumbled, he still felt drowsy and out of sorts. 

Arden reached over and took Fenris’ hand in his own before leaning in to kiss him, breathing the lightest touch of rejuvenation magic into Fenris as he did so before pulling away slowly.

“I felt your spell Arden, do not do such things to me; you know I do not like the feel of it.” Fenris said as he rolled over and moved to the edge of the bed. “I’m up now, might as well get something to eat and let Anders rest.” he said with a tinge of annoyance to his voice.

“Forgive me,” murmured Arden as he rose also and reached for his house robe. “I’m starving,” he admitted. “I have bloodloss and a day’s worth of meals to make up for. I hope Orana’s made her good beef stew; I could just murder a bowl or two of that right now.”

“From the smell of it, I think she did. Come beloved, let’s have dinner and maybe a drink before bed? Then we can make sure Anders eats as well.” Fenris offered his hand and a brief kiss before he pulled on his own house robe, in silver instead of red with Hawke’s crest embroidered in dark green stitching that matched his eyes.

Arden slipped his slender pale hand into Fenris’ warm, sword-calloused palm and allowed himself to be led downstairs to dinner.

**

Anders groaned and stretched then opened his eyes slowly. His had a moment’s disorientation as he stared at the canopy over his bed; was this Arden’s room? He remembered facing the other Anders, Justice rising in anger over the presence of what seemed to be another demon wearing the mask of his own existence, and then pain as he smashed into the wall, crying out briefly as masonry hit his fallen body before something hit his head and he spiralled down into darkness accompanied by crushing pain.

He sat up and stared down at himself but he was whole and unharmed, dressed in linen shirt and pants. He glanced around the room. The sun was high outside, streaming green and gold through the leaves of the trees outside the window and washing the room in almost sickly hues.

Arden pushed the door open and paused as he entered the room, then smiled. “Ah, you’re awake at last!” he exclaimed as he entered and made his way to the bed. To Anders’ surprise, Invictus entered behind him.

“Wait - how did....” He blinked. “Which Kirkwall am I in?” he asked.

The two Hawkes glanced at each other. “He doesn’t remember,” said Invictus.

“Only natural after all he’s been through,” replied Arden. They both approached the bed, Invictus circling around the far side of the bed as Arden came to sit next to Anders, leaning over him with a fond smile.

Fenris followed the two Hawkes through the door and fixed Anders with what could only be described as naked desire. “The mage is awake? Good,” he practically purred.

Anders pushed himself up into a sitting position but Arden placed a hand upon his chest as he bent over the blond apostate. “No, don’t get up,” said Arden. “You’ve been very ill. We’ve been very worried about you.”

Invictus’ arm snaked around Anders’ chest from behind as he slid in behind the healer, pulling Anders firmly against him. “I bet I know just what will set him right. Right, Ser?” He looked up at Fenris in expectation.

The elf advanced upon the three men and reached out to grasp Anders’ chin firmly in one hand. “You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?” he smiled predatorily. “You want to yield yourself up to us, don’t you? Our little plaything. Our pet.”

Arden pressed himself closer, sliding a hand up underneath Anders’ shirt as he leaned in to claim Anders’ lips with a kiss. Anders closed his eyes and moaned into Arden’s mouth even as he felt the blond Hawke flick his nipple, sending a shock of sensation through him that went straight to his groin.

“Look, he’s getting all excited for us,” purred Invictus in his ear. “Such a good little mage.” His hand snaked down to delve into Anders’ pants and curl around Anders’ cock as it twitched.

“Those look uncomfortably tight,” remarked Fenris. “Let’s do something about that, shall we?”

Anders felt hands upon the fabric of his pants at his hips, dragging them down to free his member until the fabric was bunched up around his knees. As Invictus continued to fondle his cock, he felt himself growing fully erect, a slow heat building in his groin.

“Arden, do something about that beautiful cock,” ordered Fenris. “It will look so much better with your lips around it, don’t you think?”

Anders gasped as the blond Hawke pulled away from their kiss with a devious grin and moved down Anders’ body. He grinned up at Anders and then his head dipped down, swallowing his cock right down to the base. 

Anders groaned and arched his back as he felt his length be enveloped entirely by Arden’s hot, enticing mouth before Arden set to work with tongue. He let his head drop back onto Invictus’ shoulder and the dark-skinned Hawke sank his teeth lightly into the side of his neck, snaking his hand back up Anders’ body to encircle his throat even as his other hand reached up to flick and tweak Anders’ nipple until the mage was writhing and moaning between the two men.

Fenris swung a leg over Anders’ torso and crouched over him, holding Anders’ face between his hands as he bent down to claim Anders’ mouth with his own, tongue probing forcefully into Anders and thrusting deep past Anders’ tongue as Invictus whispered into his ear.

“You’ve wanted this, haven’t you? Dreamed of giving yourself to all of us. You want what we can give you so much, don’t you?”

Anders moaned into Fenris’ mouth as the elf plundered it, ravishing him with his tongue even as Arden’s head bobbed faster and Anders’ nipples pebbled into hard nubs under the continued ministrations of the dark Hawke’s hands.

“Give in,” breathed Invictus. “Let us in. Surrender. We have so much to give you, Anders. You need never be lonely again....” Anders softly groaned assent, almost overwhelmed by desire, arching into their hands.

Fenris pulled away from his mouth. “Say the words. Let us in. Let us claim you.”

The faint aroma of brimstone and sulphur hung in the air; the green light from the window made it appear as though the room were deep underwater as Anders’ eyes flickered open, lost in the sensations coursing through his body. Fenris’ eyes were as green as the light from the window.

“Let us in,” purred Invictus again. “Surrender to us. Say it.”

Anders suddenly recalled in a moment of clarity that there were no trees outside Hawke’s bedroom window.

He unleashed a spirit blast and the three men were thrown across the room by the force with which it exploded. He rolled off the bed, tugging up his pants one-handed as with the other he gathered a swirling ball of raw spirit energy. “You’re demons,” he growled.

The faces of the three men melted away as they came to stand together, their true forms as desire demons revealed.

“So powerful,” purred the one on the left who had worn Arden’s features.

“So strong,” agreed the one on the right who had been Invictus.

“We know you want them,” purred the one who had been Fenris as it stepped forward. “Don’t deny it. We can give them to you - all of them. Our power spans across the Fade, to all the worlds. Join us, let us in, surrender to us and the power to open a path between the worlds will be yours.”

“No need for mirrors,” agreed the demon on the left.

“You can have both Hawkes,” agreed the one on the right.

“Any Hawke,” said the one in the middle. “All will love you and desire you. And you will never be lonely again. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“You’ve been so lonely since your spirit was stripped away from you, haven’t you?” crooned the one on the left as it advanced towards him. “Don’t you see? We can take its place. And we can give you more - so much more than ever it could.”

“Power,” agreed the one on the right as it slowly flanked the blond apostate. “No templar will ever stand against you.”

“You will be the saviour of all mages,” agreed the one in the centre. “The thing you most desired of all. With our combined power, we can destroy the Chantry and bring it all down.”

“No child will ever be taken from its parents again to be imprisoned by the Circle.”

“Mages will be free to love and desire whoever they will.”

“You can have anyone you desire.”

“Anything you desire.”

“Anything.”

“Only submit to us....” purred the central demon as it rested a clawed hand upon Anders’ chest. “Let us in. We will give you Hawke.”

“Never,” breathed Anders, and unleashed a spirit blast with all the force of his will and fury.

He fought them with cold icy anger. Magic worked slightly differently here in the Fade; his ice blasts were less effective, fire magic more unpredictable, lightning much as it was in the waking world. His most devastating attacks were with spirit energy however; his spirit blasts and bolts had three times the force here than they ever had in the waking world, and he worked on a series of blasts followed up by targeted spirit bolts that drove the demons to their knees as the room was destroyed around them then gradually melted away altogether, the terrain reforming itself within the dream to flicker between various half-remembered places - a wall from his cell in Kinlock Hold, the cobblestones of the Gallows, the sandstone cliffs of the Wounded Coast - and over all the green sky, the Black City hanging in the air in the distance.

One by one the demons vanished as they were defeated, their thin wails of disappointment dwindling into silence. 

Anders stared around himself and willed himself to wake up.

**

Anders stumbled downstairs toward the kitchen. He could hear the quiet sounds of conversation coming from the kitchen; the elf’s deep bass rumble overlaid and answered by Invictus’ lighter baritone. They paused and looked round with welcoming smiles as he paused in the doorway, then their faces fell as they took in the haunted look in his eyes as he wandered in, face pale and gaunt, and dropped into the nearest chair.

“Demons. Three of them,” he managed to croak before dropping his face into his hands with a shudder. “I came so close - they were so strong... I nearly....” He shivered and moaned.

Invictus got up and poured the blond a mug of tea and pressed it on him. “Here, what happened?” 

Fenris didn’t like how shaken the mage seemed but wasn’t sure what to do for him.

Anders took the mug and sipped slowly. “I guess the potion wore off, because I started dreaming. Arden was there, and then you, and then Fenris, and then....” He coloured and ducked his head, hiding behind his hair. 

“I should have realised I was dreaming. Should have known. I fought them off, but they still tried to tempt me. Offered me the power to be able to cross over to Arden’s Kirkwall at will. They said -” He gulped the tea hastily. “They said I could have the power to protect every mage. Never be lonely again. That I could have any Hawke I wanted.” He glanced up. “They kept saying that. That I could have any Hawke.” 

Realisation dawned on him suddenly and he stared at Hawke. “They didn’t want me. They wanted to use me... to get to you.”

Hawke shuddered. “Why me? Why now? I’ve never been of interest to demons before, what happen---” he cut himself short then looked to Fenris and Anders. “Arden happened, the Eluvians and the dead Hawke in the Black Emporium’s Eluvian. That didn’t break when you came back, Merrill’s did but that one is still in one piece. What...what if something came through with me or you?” Vic said. 

“That has to be it,” agreed Anders, nodding. “But which one? And why are they fixated on you?” He shook his head as he stared down at his mug. “Demons are attracted to all mages; we shine brightly through the Fade for them. It’s only sheer blind luck you’ve never encountered them in your dreams before now - or maybe you did and just never realised it. It happens more often than you might think.” He tapped a forefinger on his lip thoughtfully. “You’ve never been Harrowed. I have; I faced down my first demons in the Fade at fourteen, only a couple of years after they dragged me to the Circle. They get it over with fast with spirit healers; there’s a greater risk of us falling prey because we’re so used to touching spirit energy through the Fade already. I guess with Justice gone they see me as wide open and tasty - and conveniently close to you.”

“You fought a demon at fourteen? What in the Void, why would they do that to a child?” Vic replied in shock, the idea of a demon fixated on him forgotten at the other mages words.

Fenris was silent, he knew little of what was done in the Minrathous Circle, but throwing a child into the Fade and hoping they made it out was not one of their practices. Even adult, accomplished magisters didn’t face off against demons and spirits without a second at their back.

“The Harrowing. They drug you with lyrium, put you under, call up a bunch of demons and leave you to deal with it. You either fight them off or the templars kill you when you turn into an abomination. It happens to all Circle mages sooner or later.” Anders shrugged. “They did it because I was strong enough that they were afraid to let me progress any further otherwise. I was getting too strong even at that age in terms of magic and healing, and like I said - the whole spirit healer thing. Better to get it over with early than risk my falling to a demon later on when I’d mastered far more destructive magics. You should have seen the firestorms I used to pull off with the Wardens. I lost a lot of that when Justice joined with me, though I gained more in other ways.” He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. 

“Huh. I wonder if I could call up a maelstrom again now he’s gone.” He glanced at Invictus. “I promise I won’t try inside the house,” he added with a wink, some of the colour slowly returning to his face now he was over the worst of the shock.

“Alright...I’m ….father told me so little of the Circle, and never about the Harrowing. Probably because I wouldn’t have listened.” Invictus said bitterly. “What do we do? It’s not like we can call Arden...or maybe we can?” 

Fenris sat up and glanced at his lover. “Invictus Endrin Hawke, what are you thinking about doing?” the elf said with worry in his voice.

“Seeking Arden out when I next sleep, I’m not messing around with the Eluvian again, don’t worry love.” 

Anders stared over at the kitchen window. “It’s dark out,” he observed. “Going to try tonight?”

“Might as well, hopefully I can find him again on purpose and not merely on accident. I hope he can tell me what the hell is going on.” Vic muttered. “You should eat something, we were just getting started when you came down.” 

Anders glanced round, only just noticing the savoury smells. “Maker, I’m starving,” he admitted. “Then again, when am I not?” He got up and went to fill a plate.

Vic shrugged and dug into the savory potatoes, sliced ham, onions and rutabaga’s. Bodahn had picked up more Ferelden fare it seemed, but the mage was happy to have something that reminded him of home. 

Fenris didn’t like all the talk of the Fade and demons but he wouldn’t argue with Vic about it unless he feared for his lovers safety. Once he was done he asked what his role would be as they slept. “What am I to do while you are seeking Arden?”

“Well, for a start there’s no guarantee that Hawke and I will even be able to find each other in the Fade once asleep,” said Anders, pausing between forkfuls of food. “It’s not as simple as it may sound - we don’t go to sleep and suddenly there we are. If we fall asleep holding firm to the thought of meeting the other than that increases the chance I’ll find myself in Hawke’s dream or vice versa, and once we find each other it will be easier to find Arden. But we’re not somniari; we can’t just walk at will from dream to dream, looking for one specific dream, nor can we shape that dream if we find it - only Arden could do that himself.”

“Apologies, I do not understand such things even though my markings allow me to step in and out of the Fade at will. I will stand guard over you as you sleep, since it is all I can do.” Fenris’ expression was tense as he finished off the last of his meal. He worried that Vic might get snared in the Fade by a demon since they seemed to really have an interest in him lately.

“Wait - back up a moment,” said Anders, his food forgotten, fork halfway to his mouth. “You can actually step in and out? I’ve never entirely understood exactly how your powers worked. So that’s how you’re able to pass through things - you’re basically halfway or more into the Fade?” He gestured at the elf’s clothing. “You don’t seem to phase out of your clothes when you do it so I presume that means you bring them with you, along with anything you’re holding. Could you deliberately take something into the Fade?” he glanced at Invictus. “Like, say, another person? Or two?”

“I...I don’t know, it’s not as if Danarius explained it in detail to me. I was not...I...do not know I am sorry.” Fenris’ gaze was on the table, his words locked in his throat; he didn’t want to tell them the truth that Danarius had used him for that purpose and the results were always brutal afterwards. He glanced at Invictus guiltily then hung his head. 

Vic knew the truth but he hesitated, sure his head would roll if he revealed what Fenris didn’t seem to divulge.

Anders pushed the salt cellar over to the elf. “Could you... phase that into the Fade and leave it there?” he asked. “It’s small so it wouldn’t take much energy. I’m guessing for something larger you’d maybe need another source of energy.” He let spirit energy dance over his upturned palm; it was the cool soothing blue of his healing magic. “Maybe if I drew on my own mana at the same time... so it wouldn’t be taxing your own energies. You’d be... sort of pulling me in rather than carrying me, if that makes sense?” He looked at Fenris, then dropped his eyes to the salt shaker. “I’m getting ahead of myself, we don’t even know if you can phase that salt cellar yet.” He glanced up. “Would you try? Please?”

Fenris stared down at the table for a long time before he picked up the salt cellar and closed his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of not being there, yet still in the mortal world. He found it difficult to do while at the table so he moved to an open space in the kitchen and tried again, his concentration not as good as it would be thanks to having an audience. He finally phased out for a moment, then became corporeal again without the salt cellar. “There, it is done.” he said before he slumped into his chair and rested his forehead on his crossed forearms. 

“Love? Are you alright?” Vic asked as he touched his lovers shoulder gently but was shrugged off. He didn’t understand the muffled answer but let it lie.

Fenris wouldn’t have been as drained normally, but he hadn’t had to do that particular trick in years. He could phase while fighting without a second thought, but to intentionally take something into the Fade and leave it was a different matter.

“Fenris, stop me if I’m off track or this is too painful or difficult to talk about, but... I’m guessing whenever Danarius used you, he drew on your powers - there was no give, only take. I’m wondering though - power in my experience doesn’t just flow in one direction, and when I’ve healed you I’ve felt... a sort of tug. I wonder....” He held his hand out, palm uppermost, as healing spirit energy danced over his fingers. “I’m not going to do anything with this or try to direct it, but... would you touch my hand and see if you can draw on my power yourself?”

The elven warrior sat up and glanced at Anders hand, then at Invictus, almost seeking a sign that it was alright in the opposite of their usual interactions. At the other mage’s nod, he took the blond apostate’s hand but wasn’t sure what to do. “I don’t...understand how I would draw on your powers.”

“Try just... I don’t know, phasing your hand into the Fade, but see if you can take some of the power from me at the same time as your lyrium? If I’m right, once you - er - light up, if I just stay passive and let it flow you should start siphoning it off automatically.”

Fenris held Anders gaze as he let his powers activate, and felt his hand phase out of sync, that strange not there feeling he always had when he ripped hearts from men’s chests. His eyes fluttered closed as he felt the slightest hint of Anders’ power touching him. It was completely different from touching Danarius’ powers; where Danarius’ magic had been all sharp edges, fire blood and pain, the blond apostate was soft, gentle, healing and soothing. He could feel himself instinctively drawing on that magic, the touch soothing and reassuring - and invigorating, as a wash of energy rippled through his body.

Anders gave a soft gasp as he felt the surge of magic being drawn through his body, his eyes widened as his hand became translucent beneath Fenris’ brilliantly glowing fingers. He could feel his energy draining into the elf. “Stop,” he managed to gasp. 

Fenris yanked his hand away as he opened his eyes, his gaze fearful as he cradled his hand to his chest then abruptly got up and left the room. The feel of drawing on Anders power was intoxicating, and it was strange, in a way he couldn’t articulate. He didn’t think he could do what Anders had requested, not if it would feel that way.

Anders stared at his hand, cradling his wrist with the other hand then falling forwards until his forehead rested against the table. He felt like he’d just been healing for six hours straight in his clinic; drained and tired. But it had worked. “It actually worked,” he breathed.

“Yes but it’s affected Fenris in a bad way it seems and I will not hurt him for this idea. He’s not a damned battery.” Vic said, his eyes hard as he looked to the other apostate.

“No, he’s not,” replied Anders, exhausted. “For once, I was. I could feel my power draining into him. Physically he’s fine. We could do this - he could take us both into the Fade with me supplying the power. I’d have to take several vials of lyrium first or I will be pretty useless once in there, but we could do it.” He lifted his head slowly and regarded the other mage. “But I don’t want to distress him further. We can only do it if he agrees and is willing. It’s.... I think we just turned on its head pretty much everything he took for granted about mages around his powers, it’ll take him a while to process it. I won’t say another word unless and until he does, I promise.” He let his head drop to the table again. 

“Maker, I am so tired,” he groaned. “That would have gone better if I hadn’t been fighting three desire demons in my sleep immediately beforehand.” He waved a hand vaguely in Invictus’ direction. “You should go after him,” he suggested.

“Go to bed, and we can speak more tomorrow.” Vic said before he hurried to follow after Fenris. He entered their room to find the elf in bed, staring at his hands as if he had just discovered them.

Anders followed up slowly after, but instead of following Invictus to the main bedroom he turned aside towards the guest room. Kicking off his boots, he made his way over to the bed and dropped heavily onto it face down. Closing his eyes, he barely managed to pull the covers haphazardly over himself before he fell asleep, his snores muffled by the pillows.

Fenris finally looked up at his lover then back to the bedding he’d clenched between his fingers. “I apologize for just walking out but that was upsetting Vic. It...it was so different and I didn’t want to stop.” 

Invictus came over and pulled Fenris into his arms, his voice a bit tremulous as he spoke. “Are you alright? Don’t apologize for leaving when you need to, it’s your home and you need to be safe here.”

“I know I am safe,” replied Fenris quietly. “I just... I need to process what just happened. I’ve never felt anything like that before. I... it was intoxicating. I thought it would hurt, but it was nothing like when Danarius used me. It was... soft, gentle. Giving. I felt like I was falling into a bottomless well of ... I don’t know. It was so pleasant. Like falling asleep, or drinking good wine, or reaching climax and I - I wanted more, Vic, so much more, and I was afraid I would-” He broke off and stared at his hands. “Was this what Danarius felt when he used me?” He shivered. 

“I doubt it love.” Vic rubbed circles at the base of Fenris’ spine with his thumb and pressed soft kisses to the elf’s temple as he held him. “You don’t have to do that again, I won’t have you so used for anyone’s mad scheme, especially one that could hurt you. I won’t let you be hurt.” Vic held him close and tried not to let his own fear show through his attempt at comforting his lover.

“That’s the worst of it though,” breathed Fenris. “It didn’t hurt. It felt so good... and even as I pulled away, I wanted more.” 

“It sounds dangerous, like getting hooked on Orichalcum or that Antivan herb some friends used to smoke when I was a kid back in Lothering. Does healing magic affect you differently than other magics? I know my Force magic causes you discomfort at times.” Vic leaned in and kissed Fenris for comfort and reassurance of his love.

“Healing magic is... different,” agreed Fenris, returning Invictus’ kiss. “Anders’ particularly so. Perhaps it is because he is a spirit healer and maybe therefore more attuned to the Fade to begin with? I do not know. It is gentle, giving without taking. Particularly when offered like that - no attempt to guide it into my body, only freely available to draw upon.” He frowned. “I hope I did not harm Anders; I had no way to gauge how much I was drawing from him.”

“He was tired but otherwise fine love. He said he will not mention it again unless you do so. What made it so good? I doubt my paltry bit of healing skill would affect you the same way.” Vic held up a finger to his lovers lips. “I will not try either, you already seem ...flushed from your joining of power with him. I would not harm you my heart.” 

Fenris wordlessly caught Invictus’ hand in his and let his brands light up in soft, silvery light, opening up his power as he felt Invictus’ magic call to the lyrium. He let the merest trickle be drawn into his lover, enough to make Invictus’ eyes widen as the heady sensation flooded through him before letting the light die. “You see?” breathed Fenris. 

The Champion closed his eyes and moaned softly. “Fuck...that’s…” 

“That is only the tiniest fraction of what it feels like,” said Fenris softly. “Were I to open up fully to you, you would be overwhelmed.”

“Kind of overwhelmed right now, to fully experience that would kill me with sensation. Do you…did it arouse you at all? I hate to admit that I am, this taste has turned me on. Hopefully there’s no more demonic influence with this but Maker, I want you, want more as you have me.” Vic sucked in a sharp breath before he leaned in for a longer kiss, his hands cradling Fenris to him as held the elf for as long as he could before he needed air.

“Mmm,” rumbled the elf as he pulled away. “I almost want to ask Anders in here, but I fear what our lust would do to him. He has only finite energy after all.”

“He’s probably dead asleep anyway, but I am yours beloved you know that. This is something new, but just a bit frightening so I don’t know what’s worse. Letting you use me like that or holding off so we don’t get carried away and hurt each other. I want you though, I want you to have me and ...fuck, it affects the mage you tap into as well I see.” Vic panted softly his desire warred with his common sense as he fought the urge to throw himself at Fenris, consequences be damned.

“Imagine if we were to open up to each other love,” breathed Fenris. “My power flowing into you as yours flows into me... do you see how addictive it could become? This is very dangerous, love.” Even as he said the words, he reached for the mage and prevented him from replying by kissing him thoroughly and deeply, rolling them both over until he was astride Invictus, his tongue probing into his hot, wet, inviting mouth and ravishing it until they had to break apart for breath, the elf panting raggedly.

Vic’s eyes closed and he rolled his hips against his lover. “I’ve been addicted to you for years, this is just a new level of it.” he panted. “I want to try but I’m scared we won’t be able to stop.” 

Fenris groaned and bent over Invictus, burying his face against the side of his lover’s throat even as his hand stole down to cup the mage’s erection through the cloth of his pants. “Want you,” he breathed.

“Want you too.” Vic said in a hoarse whisper. “Domne.” he moaned as he whimpered and thrust against his lover’s touch.”Take me, fuck me please Fenris.”

Fenris reached for Invictus’ waistband and dragged the cloth down, freeing up the mage’s cock.

“Prepare yourself, mage,” he growled even as he reached into his own pants, freeing his member and beginning to stroke himself.

“Yes ser.” Vic whimpered as he turned over and got the oil out. He bent over and trailed his slick fingers over his opening, before slipping two inside and stretching himself. 

Fenris groaned at sight of the mage fingering himself as he pumped his fist slowly back and forth over his cock, aroused, his pupils wide and dark as he stared, biting his lip a little. “More,” he ordered. “I want to see you fit your whole hand in there.”

Vic whimpered as he pulled his fingers free and got the oil again. “Domne…” he breathed slowly even as he slicked his hand and resumed the position he’d been in. He didn’t know if he could manage his own hand, even with the amount of oil he’d used and the way he’d arched his back. “Please…” he moaned, unsure what he was asking for as he got a fourth finger inside but struggled with tucking his thumb in and making the final push.

Fenris laid his hand over Invictus’ wrist and gently disengaged the mage’s fingers before reaching for the oil. Dribbling it over Invictus’ crack, he oiled his hand thoroughly then gently inserted three fingers, easing them in then pausing as Invictus’ body adjusted to this new, slightly different intrusion and relaxed around his digits before easing them deeper into the mage’s body. As he withdrew them, he slid a fourth finger in and thrust slowly and gently back into Invictus’ body, leaning forward to press a kiss against the base of the mage’s spine as his fingers pressed harder until his fingers were fully inside, pressed firmly together. He eased them in and out a little, getting Invictus used to the feeling of being stuffed so full.

“Talk to me, Invictus,” he said softly.

Vic gasped and moaned as he felt his lover’s hand breach him. He had words but wasn’t sure he could speak coherently. “Domne, please...please, more, take, can’t ...words too … much.” he said half in Trade, half in Tevene as he struggled not to move so he was getting fucked. “Please domne, I’ll be good, please.” he whimpered.

Fenris drew his hand out far enough to tuck his thumb in against the palm of his hand, then folded his hand in to form an arrow shape with fingers outstretched into a point. Drizzling more oil over his hand up to the wrist, he edged his hand in slow, slow, ever so slowly, pausing as the widest part of his hand reached the ring of muscle. He waited whilst Invictus’ body adjusted to being filled so tight, then as Invictus’ sphincter relaxed he eased the rest of his hand in until it was fully seated within the mage’s body. He waited whilst the mage grew used to being filled so completely before starting to slowly move, easing his hand deeper into the other man’s body then drawing back before gently pressing in.

“Take yourself in hand,” said the elf softly.

Vic did as he was told, his breath came in hisses and pants as he was filled by his lovers hand. His eyes rolled closed and he started begging for release, anything that Fenris wanted. They’d never gone so far as to let Fenris breach him like this and it overwhelmed the mage, he wasn’t sure what he wanted more, to come from the elf’s slow pumping or for Fenris to slam home and make him scream in pleasure.

Fenris let his brands light briefly, just enough to let a little trickle of power flow into Invictus’ body before he slowly eased his hand out. Oiling his cock swiftly, he slid into Invictus’ body fast and hard.

That wrenched a long, loud moan from Invictus as he dipped further down to the mattress and spread his legs further. “Yes, yes… more domne, please!” he begged. Fenris began to thrust into the mage’s willing body, deep and fast, each thrust grazing across Invictus’ prostate and eliciting low breathy cries from the mage at each stroke.

“Maker… fuck, help me please.” Vic gasped after a particularly hard stroke. He lost the grip on his own cock and clenched the bedding in his fingers, his knuckles pale from the tight hold he had ont he linens. 

Fenris ground into him before withdrawing slowly, only to slam himself hard into the mage, switching to slow, hard thrusts before speeding up again to pound into Invictus’ flesh, growling gutterally. “Beg, mage,” he snarled as his fingers curled into Invictus’ hips with bruising pressure.

“I’ll do anything domne… master… anything, please let me come. I’ll suck your cock in the Hanged Man, let you fuck me on the steps of the Gallows, Maker, fuck..fuck…” Vic broke and started to sob in between promises of depravity and debauchery. “Anything, I’ll let Anders fuck me, you, oh please Fenris.”

“Be careful what you promise, Invictus Hawke; I may hold you to it.” His thrusts took on a savage quality, the slapping of flesh against flesh loud in the room over the sound of Invictus’ sobbing breaths as he felt his own orgasm coiling in his groin, inexorable and demanding.

“Come,” he uttered.

“Thank you ser.” Vic gasped as he let go and covered the bedding and his thighs with his spend. “Thank you… so much…yours, all yours to do as you please.” He babbled as he was moved forward with each hard snap of the elf’s hips.

Fenris felt himself stutter, losing his rhythm as he came close to the edge and then with a hoarse cry, he came, his seed spent deep inside the mage as he shuddered. He slumped over Invictus’ back, breathing hard, heart racing. “Anything I please, eh,” he managed to gasp as he gathered enough energy to slip free of Invictus’ body before falling over onto his side and panted.

Vic mumbled something in response from his place flat on the bed. He’d tipped over as soon as Fenris had pulled away from him. “Anything you desire ser.” Vic said once he’d rolled over in a failed attempt to sit up.

“I’m tempted to tell you to go fuck Anders into waking and make him come join us in here, but that wouldn’t be fair on him,” panted Fenris. “I’m sure I’ll think up something appropriate though. In the meantime, you can clean this mess up. When you can stand,” he amended.

“If you wish me to do so, I am at your service love.” Vic muttered as he dragged himself up and to the basin in their room. He warmed the water and cleaned himself up before he got a clean, soapy flannel to wash off his lover. 

He was quiet as he washed Fenris off, and then followed up with a wet, warmed flannel to get any soap he’d missed. Vic leaned down and kissed Fenris softly before he told him that he would do anything the elf asked, even if he wanted him to go in and actually take Anders, if the other mage allowed it. “I’m yours you know, I obey your desires and whims domne. I am obedient to you.” Vic spoke softly as he peppered Fenris with soft kisses. “Get up, I need to change the bedding.”

Fenris returned the kiss then got up with a groan. “No, it was bad enough we took advantage of him whilst under demonic influence,” replied Fenris. “He might enjoy it - but I’d rather he were awake to consent properly.” He moved round the bed and bestowed a gentle kiss on the back of Invictus’ neck. “Much though I’d love to see you cock-deep in his ass again, love, let’s wait until he begs for it.” The mage could feel his lover smile against his back.

“I’d ask first, not just go in and fuck him without so much as a by your leave. I’ll wait to ask him later, when I’m not about to fall down on my face.” Vic closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. “Thank you love.”

Fenris kissed him again, wrapping his arms around Invictus and hugging him briefly before pulling away so the mage could finish changing the sheets. “That was certainly an unexpected experience,” he reflected. “I had no idea it would have quite that effect on us both. It has... possibilities.” He moved around the bed, and once the clean sheet had been spread he sprawled upon it, rolling onto his back. “I think I shall sleep well tonight, beloved,” he smiled.

“I as well my heart.” Vic said as he curled around Fenris and rested his head on the elf’s chest, the sound of his heartbeat soothing him as they laid there. “You are going to hold me to all I promised in the heat of the moment aren’t you?” he said quietly, a hint of excitement in his voice at the thought of it.

“I will admit the idea of fucking you senseless and scandalising all the templars on the steps of the Gallows holds a certain attraction, yes,” confessed the elf with a grin.

“If you desire it, I would allow it.” Vic said as he settled in to sleep, comfortable and safe in Fenris’ embrace.

Fenris merely chuckled. “Sleep,” he ordered gently. “Maybe we’ll start small and I’ll let you start breaking Anders in tomorrow. If you’re good. If you’re bad, I’ll make you watch whilst I break him instead.” He kissed the mage then lay back and closed his eyes. “I bet he’ll scream so beautifully if I phase my hand inside him....”

“Maker you’re devious.” Vic said slowly, half awake. “I’ll be a good boy.” 

“Then I’ll let you make him scream for me instead,” promised Fenris drowsily. “I wonder if he was serious about being tied up? Mmm. We could tie him spreadeagle across the bed....” He sighed, halfway into a very pleasant dream. “Definite... possibilities....” His voice trailed off.

Vic didn’t respond, he just pulled the covers further up and drifted off into his own pleasant dreams.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arden displays decidedly Invictus-like traits, Anders keeps secrets from his lovers, and he and Arden discover that much of what they assumed about the Tranquil might not be entirely correct.

Arden’s voice was a light tenor murmur, Fenris’ answer an indistinct bass rumble as Anders stumbled downstairs. He was heavily sleep-fogged, but he was sure he should have slept far longer. The light through the windows suggested it was twilight, and he’d hoped to sleep through until morning. He rubbed his eyes sleepily as he wandered into the kitchen and blinked at the light of the lamps.

Arden glanced up then rose from his seat at the table, laying down his spoon. “Hello love, I wasn’t sure how long you’d sleep,” he said as he moved round the table and hugged the sleep-befuddled apostate. His eyes were full of worry as he glanced over to Fenris. “Get him a bowl of soup love?”

“Sure.” Fenris dished out a larger portion than he’d given to himself or Arden, then slid the bowl and a hot mug of tea in front of his other lover.

“There’s plenty more once you are done with that.” he said quietly then went back to his own meal.

Anders stared down at the bowl then fumbled for the spoon as he reached for a piece of bread from the plate on the table.

“Anders... why deathroot?” asked Arden softly.

“Because I didn’t want to dream,” he replied quietly. He bent over his soup and began to eat.

“You took too much,” said Arden. “You were barely breathing.”

“No, I evidently didn’t take enough,” corrected Anders, tearing a chunk off the piece of bread and dunking it in the soup. “I should have slept clear through until morning. I guess I’ve built up a tolerance to it.”

“You haven’t built up a tolerance,” replied Arden. “I gave you an antidote to counteract it.”

Anders laid down his spoon and stared at Arden. “I wish you hadn’t done that,” he said.

Fenris glanced at them and then went back to his soup, unsure if he should interfere.

Arden laid a hand on the table in Fenris’ field of view and tapped his forefinger a couple of times until the elf looked up briefly; Arden entreated him silently with dark eyes to say something.

Fenris’ brow furrowed then he looked to his lovers. “He was concerned when he could not wake us love.”

Anders lowered his head and fumbled with his spoon. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I had good reasons.”

Arden glanced from Anders to Fenris. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why...?”

Fenris cleared his throat and spoke quickly. “We...we had to run errands and ran into Cullen while out. He was not very subtle with his threat to lock Anders up if he’d been alone. Neither of us was expecting to see him. I already told you I did not sleep well, nor did Anders. We just wanted a bit of rest without traversing the Fade.”

Arden looked shocked. “He _threatened_ you?” he exclaimed as he stared at Anders. “Whether I am with you or not, you are under my protection, Anders. I won’t stand for this, and I’ll make that quite clear to Cullen.” He glanced to Fenris. “And he just ignored your presence? Did he take leave of his senses?” He slammed his hand down hard on the table in a display of uncharacteristic anger. “Does he think I will take this insult lying down?”

 Fenris jumped and nearly spilled his soup on the table and himself. “Arden, this isn’t like you. I would not have let him come to harm you know that.”

"A threat to either of my loves is a threat against me, and I will not have either of you threatened by some jumped-up _templar_ -” he practically spat the word, “who has forgotten he is no longer at Kinloch Hold where he can throw his weight around with none able to answer back. Anders is not part of the Circle here and nor will he ever be. Cullen would do well to remember that.”

Anders had flinched when Arden slammed his hand down, spilling a spoonful of soup down his thin shirt. The mage stared down in dismay at the stain then wildly stared at Fenris. They both knew Cullen would never move openly against Anders on the streets of Kirkwall, but if Arden confronted the Knight-Lieutenant then Cullen would surely tell him they were at the Gallows in broad daylight - and Anders not even armed with his staff.

“Love…” Fenris said softly as he moved to embrace Arden and hopefully calm  him. “This is not like you, please calm down. Anders doesn’t like shouting, remember?” the elf kissed his mage lover on the cheek, then the lips softly in an effort to soothe him.

Arden drew a breath then with an effort swallowed his anger. “Anders, I am sorry. I should not have shouted. My anger is not directed at you. I just fear for what could happen to you if the templars did choose to move against you.”

Anders hunched in on himself and merely nodded. After a moment he reached out with a shaking hand and picked up his spoon again.

Fenris glanced at Anders and sighed before he steered Arden back to his seat. “Perhaps we should retire early and get a good night’s rest.”

Arden nodded slowly, still staring at Anders. “Please don’t take any more deathroot, love,” he asked quietly. “There must be safer alternatives.”

“The only other herb that would stop me dreaming is magebane, and you know what that does to me,” replied Anders.

“At least it doesn’t stop you breathing,” replied Arden.

“No, I just spend hours throwing up and feel like nug shit for a couple of days afterwards,” replied Anders with a falsely bright grin. “What fun!”

Arden sighed. “Maybe you won’t dream tonight.”

“And maybe nugs might fly,” muttered the healer before turning his attention to the soup.

Fenris shoved his bowl away and went to the sink so he could start water for the dishes. He didn’t like it when they fought, but he didn’t feel like he should speak on what was mage business in his opinion.

Arden threw his hands up as he rose from the table. “Fine, poison yourself for all I care. I’m just the idiot you damned near terrified the life out of when I couldn’t wake you when you were barely breathing earlier. Because what I really love is the idea that after losing my whole damned family I’ll wake up next to the corpse of one of my lovers in the morning. But have it your own way, drink your damned deathroot - and damn me for giving a rat’s arse about the whole thing.”

He turned and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving both Fenris and Anders blinking in stunned surprise.

“Andraste’s knickerweasels,” breathed Anders. “Did I... was that my doing?”

“I don’t know, it seems a bit extreme but we’ve all been under stress this past year. Or perhaps our visiting Hawke has rubbed off on Arden in a bad way. We should go up and talk, else we’ll be sleeping in the guest room for the next week. You check our room, I’ll check the study.” Fenris dried his hands and cursed under his breath about mages and their tempers.

Catching the tail end of his muttered comment, Anders threw him a hurt look before standing. Grabbing his bowl he lifted it to his lips and drank it down swiftly before setting it down and heading off in search of the angry Champion.

Fenris stopped his angry muttering and turned it inward when he caught the look Anders had given him. He went upstairs and opened the study to find Arden huddled in his favorite chair, glaring at the fireplace. The flames played over his features, made his dark gold hair glint in the firelight.

“Love?” Fenris asked softly as he approached.

The mage didn’t stir, his gaze on the fire. After long minutes, he began to speak, so quietly at first that even with his keen hearing the elf had to strain to hear.

“I’m so tired of being scared. Of wondering when I’m going to lose one of you. When I woke up and couldn’t rouse either of you, I was terrified. You were deep asleep but Anders... I honestly thought for a moment that he was dead. And I wanted my heart to stop too. Just for a moment.” His eyes glistened wetly in the firelight. “I can’t bear the thought of losing either of you. I think it would destroy me after everyone else I’ve lost. It’s selfish of me perhaps, but I hope I fall to some blade or poison or a dragon I finally can’t beat before I have to watch either of you die.”

He finally glanced at the elf, a tear running slowly down his cheek. “If the templars took Anders, I pray they’d hang him. Because if they made him Tranquil... I would have to kill him myself. And I’d sooner slit my own throat than have to do that. But I’d do it. Because I’d hope that should I ever wear the brand, one of you would do the same for me.”

Fenris slid to his knees and rested his head on Arden’s knee. “I would do it, then follow you into the Void before your body was cold. Please, don’t speak of such things. It would destroy me were you to die or Anders.His talk of making sure you survived and allowing him to die is what kept me awake the other other night. Please, my heart don’t… I’m sorry if I made you feel this way, but please stop talking of it.”

Arden stared down at the elf. “He... said that? That if you were faced with the choice, you should...” He stared off into space. “Maker,” he breathed quietly. He glanced back down at the elf after a moment.

“What are you not telling me about this morning, love?” he asked quietly. “Where did you meet Cullen?”

“The Gallows, Anders had to meet someone to ask about the note we found. Forgive me, please I didn’t want to let him go alone. He asked me to accompany him.” Fenris said in a hoarse whisper, actually afraid Arden would lose his temper with him. The outburst earlier had rattled him badly, almost sent him into that dark place where his memories bled over into nightmares and made him almost paralyzed in fear of an angry mage.

Arden reached down and cupped Fenris’ chin with a gentle hand, his fingers cool on the tan skin. “There’s nothing to forgive, love,” he said quietly. “I am glad he did not go alone but at least had the sense to take you with him. But why go in person? I know Anders has contacts in the Gallows - he shouldn’t need to risk himself like that.”

“Because of the note he found on one of the people who attacked you. Said it was that important. I’m sorry Arden, I’m so sorry please don’t be angry with me.” Fenris looked away, his expression unsure of how mad Anders or Arden would be with him.

Arden stared down at the elf, brow furrowing in consternation. “Love?” he asked quietly, then he bent down and took hold of the elf’s shoulders, tugging him up until they were both on their feet. “Love, don’t be afraid of me - I’m not angry with you, I swear.”

“I… forgive me, you usually don’t get so angry and it, it reminded me of my past. I know you wouldn’t hurt me, not as I have been before.” Fenris sniffed and gave Arden an unsure smile. “I’m being stupid, I’ll go let Anders know you are fine and then I’m going to bed. Please join us soon love.”

In the shadows by the door, Anders lingered, one hand firmly clasped over his mouth to stifle any sound as his chest heaved with suppressed sobs. Tears rolled down his face. He hadn’t meant to distress either man, yet somehow he’d managed to hurt both with a few ill-thought words.

He couldn’t feel angry with Fenris for giving away where they’d been. His mind was whirling with a maelstrom of intrusive thoughts, and he couldn’t tell which were his own and which were bleeding over from Justice. Since the other Anders had returned to his own Kirkwall, Justice had become so much stronger, demanding, insistent; it was becoming harder and harder to quell him. He hadn’t dared confess to Arden or Fenris that part of the reason he’d taken such a large dose of deathroot had been to silence the vengeful spirit.

Maybe he should have chosen the magebane. Or maybe all choices and decisions were equally bad.

_I can’t go through with this. It’ll destroy them both._

_I cannot NOT go through with this. Too much is riding on this. I cannot let my hand be stayed._

_This isn’t fair! I want so much more than this. For them. For the others.... For myself._

_I have to. There is no choice. There can be no compromise. They will not give us one. They will understand one day._

_Will they? Will they really?_

_It will all be over soon, one way or another._

_There has to be another way!_

Silence. He had no more answers. He turned and fled.

Arden heard nothing; his attention was wholly focussed on the elf. He kissed the elf and breathed softly, “Truth be told, I think I scared myself. I’m not sure where that came from.”

He slipped to his knees and pressed his forehead against Fenris’ thigh. “It is I who should be begging forgiveness,” he said in a quiet voice. “I should never have - love, I am so sorry.”

“Get up, do not… off your knees. We all behaved poorly today, and I just want to go to sleep and forget this fucking day happened.” Fenris tugged at Arden to rise, disturbed by his contrition.

The mage slowly rose and nodded. “It’s late. Where is Anders?”

“He was to look in our room for you, I’m not sure why he didn’t come in here when he didn’t find you. Come, perhaps he heard us speaking and left us to give privacy.”

Arden nodded and gestured for Fenris to lead the way.

Fenris paused when he heard water being pumped in the bathing chamber next to their room. “Anders? Are you alright?” he pressed a hand to the door and debated trying the handle. “I have Arden, talk to me please.”

“I’m fine.” His voice was muffled and sounded thick, slightly breathy, as though he were out of breath.

Fenris frowned at the door. “Are you sure, you don’t sound fine love.”

“I said I’m fine! Just go, I’ll... I’ll be there in a minute.” His voice sounded tight, with a clearly audible gasp of breath. There was the sound of more splashing.

“As you say… _love_.” Fenris said quietly and stepped away from the door. He went to their room, and stripped in silence, his head had begun to ache as well as his heart. He just wanted things to be normal again and for whatever madness that seemed to grip them to let them alone.

Arden slipped into bed and waited for Fenris and Anders to join them. Anders seemed to be taking a long time in the bathing chamber. “Are you sure he’s alright?” he murmured. “Perhaps I should go check?”

“No I don’t think he’s alright but he clearly didn’t want to tell me. Perhaps you’ll have better luck.” Fenris said, anger lacing his voice. He’d turned on his side after getting into bed, back to the door and Arden. He was in a prickly mood and didn’t want to be touched or to talk any more.

Arden glanced at the elf, trying to quell the hurt feeling of rejection as Fenris turned away. Shaking his head, the mage slipped from the bed and made his way to the door of the bathing chamber. He knocked then tried the door handle, frowning when it didn’t yield under his hand. “Anders? Are you alright in there?”

Anders stood in the middle of the bathing chamber, hands braced on the edge of a bucket of cold water he’d stood on a stool. He’d stripped off the stained shirt and was gulping in gasps of air as he sobbed silently, face wet with tears. He heard the door rattling. Swallowing hard, he coughed and then managed to call out, “Be there in a minute.”

He dunked his head under the icy water and nearly inhaled with shock at the touch of the freezing water. It served to shock him more awake and dispel the last of the deathroot fog. He kept his head under until his lungs burned for air, and then he straightened up, flipping long wet hair back to smack wetly against his shoulders as he gasped loudly. “Coming,” he called. With luck the cold water would have relieved the puffy redness around his eyes, and they would discount his tears as merely water from washing.

He tipped away the water and snatched up a towel, looping it around his shoulders before unlocking the door. He managed to smile at Arden. “Sorry, love, I needed to freshen up a little,” he said, forcing a cheerful note into his voice.

“A cold wash? At this time of night?” said Arden dubiously.

“It’s good for the hair and complexion,” replied Anders airily as he left the bathroom, rubbing his wet hair with the towel. “You should try it some time.”

“You’ll catch your death of cold,” scolded Arden, shaking his head as he followed the healer into their bedroom.

“That’s not how you catch a cold,” replied Anders as he dried off his hair. “Besides, Warden constitution, remember? We don’t get sick.” He carded through his damp hair with his fingers, working out the tangles.

Fenris didn’t move, didn’t even speak to acknowledge his other lover had returned. Instead he remained covered up and irritated. Whatever Anders’ problem was, he hadn’t wanted to disclose it to him.

Anders glanced at the elf then raised an eyebrow at Arden, who shook his head grimly in warning. Anders regarded Fenris sombrely as Arden slid between the sheets into the middle of the bed, then slid in beside Arden on the opposite side to Fenris.

“Your hair is cold and damp,” remarked Arden quietly, pushing it out of his face as Anders turned on his side and the Champion spooned in behind him.

“Sorry,” mumbled Anders.

“I’m sorry I shouted,” said Arden quietly.

“I’m sorry too,” said Anders softly as he closed his eyes. He felt Arden press a light kiss against his shoulder-blade as he drifted off to sleep.

Arden smiled faintly as the healer began to snore softly, an occasional hitch in his breath.

Fenris didn’t sleep until much later, and when he did it was restless thanks to being cold and Anders snoring on the other side of the bed. He gave up on rest at first light and slipped from the bed, pulled on his house robe over his leggings and went downstairs to sit in front of the fire for a while.

After an hour or so, he heard a knock at the door that persisted even as he strode to open it. He yanked it open and found himself faced with Sebastian and a tall young man in Circle mage’s robes. His amber eyes regarded Fenris serenely beneath the brand seared into his forehead. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” Fenris snapped.

“Fenris please keep your voice down and let me in.” Sebastian begged as he nudged the mage forward.

“I’ll do no such thing in my own home. Come in, sit in the foyer and be fucking quiet.” the elf was already annoyed and going on the second day of broken rest. Having Sebastian show up a hour after dawn didn’t help his mood.

“But I---” Sebastian started to say but shut his mouth at the glare from Fenris. “I’ll just be right here.”

“Good.” Fenris hissed as he mounted the stairs and went to rouse Arden.

“I’m sorry to wake you so early, but Sebastian  has come through on your request.”

Arden stirred, then sat up. “Is Orana awake?” he asked as he slid out of bed, leaving Anders sleeping. He moved to the wardrobe and pulled out clean leggings and shirt before selecting one of his longer-length dark blue velvet tunics - one that was halfway between a tunic and a robe. He followed Fenris back downstairs. 

“I have not heard her stirring yet.” Fenris said as he led them back to the foyer and stared at the laybrother maliciously.

Arden smiled courteously then turned his attention to the Tranquil mage and froze. “This... is Hal?” he asked.

The Tranquil young man regarded the Champion, his face blank, amber eyes regarding him with complete lack of curiosity. Something about the almost mask-like blankness of his face made it hard to guess at his age.

“This one's name is Hal,” confirmed the Tranquil mage. He bowed his head slightly, his dark red braid falling forward over his shoulder.

Fenris arched a dark brow at the colour of the mage’s hair but said nothing about it, he wouldn’t with Sebastian present. “Were you followed here?” he said instead.

“N...no. I was quite careful as I left before dawn. I didn’t want anyone to see me with him, just in case you needed me to do this again.” Sebastian stuttered then looked away from the cold gaze Fenris gave him.

Arden frowned slightly as he darted a brief glance at Fenris; the elf seemed quite openly hostile, yet Arden had always had the impression he and the Starkhaven prince had been friendly, if not actual friends. He decided not to press the issue right there and then however.

“I don’t think this is likely to become a regular mission, Sebastian,” he replied. “Hal, please go to the kitchen and sit down at the kitchen table. You may encounter an elven woman or a dwarf there; the woman’s name is Orana, the dwarf is Bodahn. Tell them Arden requests tea, and then obey them until I come for you.”

“The woman is Orana, the dwarf is Bodahn, you require tea and I am to serve until you require me.” Hal bowed slightly, then moved away on silent feet, the expression on his face never changing.

Arden watched him go then drew a deep breath and smiled politely at Sebastian. “Will you stay for tea?” he asked.

He glanced at Fenris and shook his head to decline. “I should not be found missing this morning, especially once they find him gone. Thank you for the offer Hawke, some other time perhaps. I apologize for waking you both so early.” Sebastian dipped his head and wished Fenris would stop glaring at him so.

The elf crossed his arms and looked the archer slowly up and down, sure he could make him talk the next time he paid him a visit. “I was already up, you did wake up Arden however. Next time make sure you call at a decent hour. I’ll be in the kitchen with our guest.” Fenris said before he spun on his heel and left them to speak.

Arden frowned slightly as the elf left, then turned back to Sebastian. “Thank you for bringing him so promptly. Fenris is... touchy before his first cup of tea.” He gave a lopsided smile. “I trust you won’t suffer repercussions for this.”

“No… no, I shouldn’t. I apologize for whatever offence has made him so angry with me. I...I beg your pardon Champion, I should have sent a runner ahead last night and not woken you so early. I must go.” Sebastian’s gaze flicked to the doorway where Fenris had disappeared. He hadn’t done anything to the elf, so his reason for being so brusque had to be that he’d worked out what had happened to Arden.

“I have no idea what's up with Fenris,” replied Arden, his own eyes flickering over to the doorway. “After all, you have never harmed me Sebastian. Have you? Plenty of people in Kirkwall have shed my blood but you were never one of them.” He was aware his voice carried in the echoing hallway, though he made no particular effort to raise his voice. He smiled at Sebastian. “I shall not keep you; you’ll have to hurry for the morning Chant.”

The archer swallowed and thanked Arden before he hurried from the Champion’s estate. Something was afoot and he didn’t know what it was; but he didn’t care for the sudden change in the elven warrior’s attitude towards him.

Arden made his way to the kitchen and noted that Hal had removed his outer robe and was standing at a counter kneading fresh bread whilst Orana bustled around the kitchen. A fresh pot of tea sat steaming on the table. Arden poured himself a cup as he regarded Hal thoughtfully.

Fenris had his eyes closed, his cheek rested on his fist and he looked like he’d fallen asleep at the table. Arden glanced over at the elf and blinked. “Love?” he called softly.

“Hmm?” he said tiredly and opened his eyes half way, “Was I asleep?” Fenris muttered.

“I think you drifted off,” nodded Arden as he moved behind the elf and laid his hands gently on his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you back up to bed; if you sleep like that you’ll be in pain when you wake up.”

“I’ll go to the guest room, want to sleep by myself.” Fenris muttered as he rose and pressed a kiss to Arden’s cheek. “I’m in a mood and don’t want to be even more of an ass to you and Anders than I’ve been since last night.”

“You’ll feel better when you’ve slept properly,” said Arden soothingly. “Do you want me to wake you later, or leave you to wake in your own time?”

“Leave me please, but do not leave the house without me. I am still concerned after you were ambushed, and until we figure out who is targeting you or Anders I’d rather you stay here or take me wherever you go.” Fenris gave him another kiss and whispered an apology to his lover for being so crabby. 

“Go sleep,” smiled Arden fondly. “Want me to come tuck you in?” He gave him a coy smile.

“Going to sing me a lullaby as well?” Fenris smirked as he took Arden’s hand lightly in his and went up the stairs.

“I might,” said Arden diffidently. “If you ask me very, very nicely.”

“I’ve heard you sing in the bath, I’d rather think it a punishment.” Fenris teased him with a slight squeeze to the mage’s hand to show he was only joking.

As they entered the guest room, Arden raised an eyebrow and then started humming. As the elf undressed, he suddenly recognised the tune; it was an old Anderfels lullaby he remembered Anders singing to them once. As Fenris slid between the sheets, Arden began to sing it softly, his voice light but true.

The elf smiled and took his lovers hand, then joined him in song, softly so he did not crowd out out Arden’s voice with his. Arden smiled as the elf’s rich bass sang counterpoint to his own tenor, closing his eyes and enjoying the song. It was so rare that Fenris would relax enough to lose his self-consciousness and sing around anyone else.

They finished the tune and Fenris tugged Arden down for a kiss before he slept. “Thank you, sorry about teasing you about your voice. That was sweet of you beloved.”

Arden smiled fondly and stroked the hair back from Fenris’ face. “Sleep well dear heart,” he murmured and kissed his forehead then quietly withdrew.

“I shall, I’ll try not to sleep the day away.” Fenris murmured as he drifted off in the dark of the room, his breath slowing and his body went slack as he fell deeply asleep.

Arden returned downstairs. He walked back into the kitchen then glanced around. Orana was still bustling around, and from somewhere in the laundry room he could hear Bodahn whistling to himself.

Hal was standing perfectly still to one side, his hands folded in the sleeves of his robes and staring straight at Arden. The mage blinked then poured himself another cup of tea that Orana had just set on the table. “Do you... like tea?” he asked the Tranquil mage.

Hal regarded him with that same blank expression but appeared to consider the question.

“The flavour is acceptable,” he said finally.

Arden blinked, then poured a second mug and set it on the table, gesturing to the honey and the small jar of almond milk that Orana had freshly pressed that morning. Hal glanced at them then carefully stirred a spoon of honey into the tea, ignoring the milk.

Arden blinked. He hadn’t known that the Tranquil could express a preference for anything, even indirectly like that.

Orana glanced round and looked thankful when she saw Arden. She approached him, wiping her hands on her apron. “Messere, could I... have a word?” she asked hesitantly, glancing nervously at Hal.

Arden glanced at the Tranquil mage. “Hal, take your tea into the downstairs study. Go out into the foyer then take the door to your left, directly opposite the front door. Choose a seat and drink your tea in there. I will be through shortly.”

Hal inclined his head in acquiescence then left, his slippered feet silent on the flagstones.

Orana waited until he left then regarded Arden earnestly. “I am so sorry, messere, but... I simply can’t have him in the kitchen.”

“Does he not work diligently to your direction?” asked the mage, sipping his tea.

“Too well, messere,” replied Orana. “He... unnerves me. It’s like having a golem in the kitchen, only one with a human face. It’s... it’s unnatural. In Tevinter, they only reserve Tranquility for the most hardened criminals. They don’t just... walk around.”

“Did you never encounter one of the Tranquil before then, Orana?” asked Arden gently.

“Never,” replied Orana with a shiver.

Arden placed an arm gently around her shoulders and guided her back toward the sink. “Think of him not as one of the Tranquil but... as someone who is very, very sick, Orana. And he needs us to look after him and keep him safe until we can return him to his family.”

“Can nothing be done for him messere?” she asked timidly. Arden shook his head sadly.

“No. I’m afraid not.”

He let her go and turned to leave the kitchen just in time to see Anders wandering toward the study, nose in a book as he yawned, clad in one of Arden’s white linen shirts and a pair of dark grey leggings, barefoot as was sometimes his wont at home.

Before Arden could warn him, Anders disappeared into the study only to reappear, stumbling backwards rapidly with a horrified expression, the book tumbling from his hand.

“I see you’ve met Hal,” remarked Arden ruefully as he crossed the carpeted foyer swiftly.

“He- I- Maker, Arden, you could have warned me!” cried Anders, turning and glaring at the other mage. “I don’t need surprises like that this early in the morning!”

“Easy, love,” answered Arden gently. “He arrived just a little after dawn this morning. Sebastian dropped him off. We just need to look after him for a little while until I can send word to his father and we can arrange to move them both out of Kirkwall.”

“Send the message now!” snapped Anders. “Get him out of here!”

“Keep your voice down,” said Arden gently. “You’ll wake Fenris.”

“I don’t care!” retorted Anders, dropping his voice nonetheless. “Arden, it gives me the chills looking at him. He’s just sitting there like a statue, drinking tea. His eyes are dead. He should be dead!”

“Statues don’t drink tea,” replied Arden as he walked past the mage into the study. Anders followed him, glancing over at Hal with distrust.

“Look at him. What do you see?” asked Arden.

“One of the Tranquil. Someone who would be better off dead than sitting here only half alive,” replied Anders.

Arden glanced at Hal, who had lifted his head and was regarding them both with those unnerving amber eyes and steady stare. A thought suddenly came to Arden which on impulse he decided to act upon.

“Hal, would you prefer to be dead?”

“He’s Tranquil, Arden!” cried Anders. “He doesn’t have preferences!”

“Yes they do,” replied Arden. “I saw him put honey in his tea. Evidently he prefers his tea sweetened. Hal, I asked you a question: would you prefer to be dead?”

Hal appeared to consider the question then answered simply, “No.” His gaze dropped to his mug and he took another sip.

Anders rocked back on his feet, shocked to the core. “That’s not possible,” he breathed. “The Tranquil have no emotions. How can they express a preference for one thing over another? How can they care whether they live or die? This makes no sense at all!”

“This one’s existence is useful and fulfills needed functions,” answered Hal, glancing up. “This one does needful things. Existence is not unpleasant on the whole. Therefore upon balance, this one prefers to be alive over being dead.”

Anders trembled. “This... this isn’t possible. What you lost - what was taken from you... how could anyone willingly choose to exist like that?”

“This one’s memories of former emotions are meaningless, as is your question. This one does not _choose_ to exist; this one merely exists.”

Anders blinked, dazed. “I would never have believed this had you told me, Arden. I still can’t quite believe what I’m seeing and hearing. I never knew the Tranquil were like this.”

“I don’t think any of us ever stopped to think or even ask one of them,” replied Arden quietly. “We just... assumed.” He turned to Hal. “Hal, from now on you will not refer to yourself as ‘this one’ but instead use ‘I’ or ‘me’ as appropriate.”

Hal inclined his head in acknowledgement. “As you wish.”

“Would you like another cup of tea?”

Hal glanced down into his cup then shook his head. “This- I mean, I... am satisfied presently and do not require further sustenance.”

“Satisfied?” echoed Anders.

“I think he means... sated, or something like that. He’s had enough.”

Hal nodded. “Yes. I have had enough tea. Thank you,” he added almost as an afterthought.

“Well, I bloody well need tea now,” muttered Anders as he backed out of the kitchen, tugging Arden with him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Invictus and Fenris talk to a dead mage, and Anders has an exhausting day leading to very uncomfortable consequences.

Vic woke up first, his body pleasantly sore as he rolled away from Fenris and sat up. He leaned down and brushed his lips across the elf’s ear and neck with a pleased hum. “Morning beloved.”

Fenris murmured something indistinct then opened one eye. Then he slowly, languidly stretched, arching his back, before glancing round. “Morning,” he said. It was more a statement than a reply.

“Barely, we slept pretty late love. I think you wore us both out last night.” Vic said as he smiled at his lover, his expression indulgent as he watched the elf trying to come awake.

Fenris’ reply was merely a grunt. He pushed himself up against the pillows. “Is the mage awake yet?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I haven’t checked yet. I’ll do that while you rouse yourself, perhaps get some coffee in you while I see if he’s among the living. I had Bodahn pick up some when he went shopping yesterday.” Vic pulled his clothes on and winced at the twinges he felt in his backside. “Maybe a healing potion for me while I’m at it.”

“I am sorry you are sore, beloved,” replied Fenris. “Though not for the reason behind it.” He gave a sleepy yawn like a pleased cat.

“I’m not sorry, not one bit. Just have to remember I’m not a spring chicken anymore.” Vic kissed him on the cheek and left to wake their guest.

Anders was sprawled on his stomach, face turned toward the door and his head half hanging over the edge of the pillow. One hand trailed limply upon the floor, and all the sheets and blankets were twisted around his legs which were sprawled apart, his left foot poking out from the end of the bed. His other arm was buried somewhere beneath the pillows.

Invictus smirked and debated whether or not he wanted to wake up the other mage but he knew Anders needed to eat, as they did and probably wanted to get to his clinic. It had been a few days since he’d been there. He went over and nudged the blond’s shoulder while he called his name.

“Anders...wake up,” he called but got no reply, not even a twitch of an arm or flutter of eyelashes. When that failed, Vic trailed his fingers over the sole of Anders foot to see if that got a reaction.

Anders’ foot shot back under the covers and he jerked instantly awake with a shocked cry before twisting round to stare at Invictus. “Don’t, I’m ticklish!” he protested.

“Oh really?” Vic said as a wicked smile formed on his face. Fenris was ticklish but had made it clear it would be his last act on Thedas if he ever intentionally tickled the elf.

Anders rolled onto his back with difficulty, pinned down by the sheets and covers. He raised his hands in a half-pleading gesture. “You wouldn’t tickle an unarmed man before he’s even had breakfast would you?” he asked plaintively.

The darker mage’s grin just widened before he launched himself at Anders in an attempt at finding every ticklish spot on the blond.

Anders barely had time to protest, “No, no, nononoplease-” before Invictus’ fingers inerrantly found the most ticklish spot on his ribs and he screamed, writhing around to try and escape Invictus’ fingers which somehow seemed to be everywhere at once. In between his screams were gasped incoherent pleas for mercy, begging the other mage to stop, punctuated by cries for help.

Fenris slammed the door open and was about to ask why they were making such a racket but stopped in his tracks when he saw them tussling like two mabari pups. “Are you actually tickling him?”

“Please, no - no, not there -” Anders screamed again and tried to writhe away from Invictus’ hand. “Fenris please, stop him, you’ve got to- oh no, nonono not there- please, for the love of Andraste no-”

“Uh hi...we, uh. Morning?” Vic said when he saw the look on his lovers face. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Fenris sighed and put his face in his hands. “Did you age backwards this morning Vic? It’s not even noon, and I thought you were killing him, Maker have mercy on all of us if he remains part of this household.”

Anders lay on his back, limbs flung akimbo as he panted. “Maker, what did I do to deserve that?” he whimpered. “Ow.”

“Nothing, I just felt like it. Are you alright? I’m sorry Anders.” Vic said as he held his hands up and approached the other mage.

“I think I have a stitch,” he said, wincing. “I haven’t been tickled like that in... maker, I have no idea how long. Possibly not since the Circle.” He regarded the other mage’s hands warily.

Fenris sighed. “I’m going downstairs children, you two come down for breakfast when you are done being five.” he left for the coffee he could smell and whatever Orana had made.

“He started it!” Anders called after him.

“I’m not going to tickle you again, I just...sorry, I just felt mischievous this morning. I can’t tickle Fenris under penalty of losing vital organs.” He held his hand out to help Anders sit up. “Come on before he gets angry for real.”

“For future reference, it’s a good idea to let your victim breathe when tickling them,” remarked Anders as he accepted the hand and let himself be hauled upright. “I was having a lovely dream - with not a desire demon in sight, before you ask.”

“Sorry, I’ll remember that should the urge strike again.” Vic smirked at him and led him towards the stairs. “Oh really, what pray tell happened in this dream?”

“My fourth escape from the Circle,” said Anders wistfully. “Sitting on a hillside overlooking the lake, enjoying the sunshine, eating a fresh loaf of bread I’d stolen and just enjoying breathing free air. It was rather nice.”

“Ah, here I was hoping it was something naughty.” Vic said as they entered the dining room and he sat to one side of his lover with a happy noise at the early lunch Orana had prepared. Fried sausages, rice, a savory red sauce with spices that reminded him of home and a small claret of red wine in case he wanted something instead of tea.

Orana set down a basket of fresh-baked bread rolls and Anders snatched one, hot and still steaming from the oven. He inhaled the warm, comforting scent and began to pick it apart happily, cramming soft fluffy white pieces into his mouth.

Fenris arched an eyebrow as he watched the mage stuff his face but he said nothing as he sipped his coffee and ate the hearty meal in the quiet of the near afternoon.

Anders turned his attention to the large portion of food on his own plate, but three more bread rolls disappeared the same way as the first before his plate was empty and the mage was contentedly picking crumbs off his lap, licking them off his fingers.

“Hungry?” Fenris asked absently, entirely unaware that his question could be taken more than one way.

“Always,” replied Anders without thinking before his head jerked up, eyes widening slightly as he considered how that could be taken - particularly in light of what had happened the last time they’d breakfasted at this table.

Vic coughed and felt his face go warm at the unintentional innuendo. “Ah love…”

“Um, that is I, I mean, ah...” Anders stammered, blushing.

Fenris glanced over to the two mages and realized what he’d said without thinking. “Ah, well I meant for food, at least right now.” the elf drained his coffee and stood. “Besides, your patients must be wondering where you are by now. We’ll walk you home.”

Anders nodded. “I’ve been here far too long already,” he agreed. “I should have gone back yesterday. I’ll get my things.”

He pushed his chair away from the table and stood up, grabbing a last bread roll as he turned and headed towards the stairs.

Fenris shrugged and went to get his armor on so they could see him off and then look into the Eluvian at the Black Emporium, assuming they could find it. Anders joined them both in the foyer a little while later, dressed, his staff slung at his back and his bag slung over one shoulder.

Fenris flexed his fingers in his gauntlets and strapped on his sword with little to say. Invictus had his staff, and his good robes, but not his Champion gear. He liked it but he knew how it intimidated the other mage, so he made a decision not to wear it.

“Ready?” he asked both his lover and the other apostate.

Anders nodded. “Come on, people will be wondering where I got to.” He led the way, taking the nearest staircase down towards Lowtown.

Fenris brought up the rear, Vic had fallen into step with Anders and chatted with him quietly all the way to the clinic door. Once they arrived, Vic gave him a brief smile.

“My door is open should you need a place to rest your head, or a hot meal.” he said quietly.

“Or if your hunger for other things arises again.” Fenris said with a quirk of his lips.

Anders blushed and fumbled with the lock of the clinic door. “I’ll, ah, keep that in mind,” he replied before glancing to Invictus. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I appreciate it. I’ll try not to abuse your hospitality too much.” He gave the Champion a small smile as the key finally yielded and turned and the door swung open. He glanced round and noticed a small crowd of injured and sick people gathering, some with crying children. “I guess I’m going to be pretty busy for a few hours,” he said. “Please excuse me.”

He flashed them both a grin then disappeared into the clinic as patients began to surge toward the door, already calling out to the healer for help.

“Of course.” they said in unison, before Vic nodded towards the other exit and towards the last place they’d found the Emporium.

Vic was quiet on the walk to the Emporium, his thoughts bouncing around all that had happened in the last couple of days as well as the news that a demon was after him. The wild night he’d had with Fenris made him smile as they walked, to the point that his lover called him on it.

“What are you smiling about? You seem like the cat that’s caught the canary.” Fenris asked as he brushed his fingers against his lovers as they walked.

“Not much, just thinking on last night love. How I can’t wait to do that again, and again.” Invictus winked at his elven lover as the found the rickety walkway that led to the Emporium’s door.

“You’re going to wear me out if you keep acting like your mabari in heat around me.” Fenris grinned that devilish little smirk of his that only Vic received.

“Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” the Champion leaned in and kissed Fenris quickly on the cheek, aware of how the elf felt about overt displays of affection in public. He shoved the door to the Black Emporium open and brushed by Xenon with a murmured greeting as he headed right to the covered Eluvian.

“What brings you back to gaze into the in-between Champion? Was your adventure not enough for you?” Xenon wheezed as Vic’s hand paused on the thick cloth that covered the ancient mirror.

“Something might have come through with me, or Anders. I just thought I might try my luck with it, perhaps see if I can detect anything.” Vic muttered as he tugged the cloth off and stepped back. The only thing that reflected back at him was his reflection, and Fenris’ as the elf stepped next to him.

“Nothing, I feel nothing Vic. Perhaps we should wait until Anders can come and look at it. He does have more of an affinity for spirits.” Fenris said quietly, his gaze unsettled as he looked at them.

He started to turn away but the sight of red, blood red hair and amber eyes caught his attention. “Vic… Vic….Invictus…” he stammered and grabbed his lovers arm in a hard, tight grasp.

The red-haired mage floated in the glass, regarding him silently before lifting a hand as if in entreaty.

 _“Fenris.”_ The voice was faint, as though it echoed from far away across some great void.

The elf’s eyes widened and his grip on Invictus tightened. “How does it know my name?” he said in a low whisper.

“I don’t know… ask it.” Vic said as he tried to pry the elf’s fingers off him. “Maker, your gauntlets are sharp, let go.”

Fenris eased up but didn’t release Invictus. He finally replied to the voice. “Y..yes?”

The ghost-like figure pressed a palm against the other side of the glass, his hair fanning out around and behind him as though he were floating underwater. _“I know you. I knew another version of you, long ago. Before I drew the arulin’holm and died. Yes. I know you. I have heard your voice in the Fade and watched from afar.”_

“Died, what do you mean died? H...how did you hear me?” He said as he felt his chest tighten and his vision blur while he stepped back into Invictus’ arms. The elf feared the Fade, hated and this was too much. It was his final straw, one that was about to send him running for home and the safety of their rooms.

The red-haired man smiled sadly. _“I was a fool. I trusted Merrill too much and gave her my help and the arulin’holm. The Keeper was right to warn me; I should have listened. The mirror held a demon that had been trapped there; when Merrill repaired it, she freed the demon. And I was its sacrifice. I managed to bind the demon as my last dying act, but I was trapped here in the Fade in consequence. And when Invictus passed through to Arden’s world, the demon followed after.”_ The figure regarded them both. _“I am Endrin Hawke.”_

Fenris felt dizzy, and hot and he wanted to run but his legs wouldn’t cooperate. He knew the witch would bring Hawke to a bad end, and it seemed she already had. “Wha...what does this have to do with me? Why are yo...you speak..ing to me instead of…” his words stopped as the fact he was speaking to a long dead Hawke, another one from the Fade, through a demon fed mirror hit him.

The elf whimpered and tried to turn and go, but Invictus held him close and whispered that it would be alright. He was there and nothing would harm him. He looked up to the other Hawke and nodded. “My middle name is Endrin, I take it there’s no coincidence with that?”

 _“No more than it is coincidence that Arden’s middle name is Victor,”_ agreed Endrin. _“And my middle name is Ardan. Little differences, to each of us, yet still much the same. He is light, you are dark, and I... perhaps I was the grey between.”_ He fingered the dark grey robes he wore and smiled sadly. He glanced at Fenris again. _“In my Kirkwall there is a Fenris who grieves for me yet. He cannot see me - or perhaps will not. I am sorry to have distressed his counterpart in your world. I mean no harm. I only seek to undo what was done, as far as possible, and warn where I cannot.”_

Invictus nodded as he gathered his lover in his arms to calm him. “It’s alright, he’ll be ok...eventually.” Vic pressed a gentle kiss to the top of the elf’s head then turned back to the mirror. “So what can we do about the demon? A fear demon already tried to come through a mundane mirror in my home, then a desire demon had it’s way with me. I’m rather tired of demons thinking I am a handy snack to be honest.”

 _“They are but the playthings and servitors of the mirror’s master,”_ Endrin replied. _“There may be others. I do not know how many; I cannot be in all places at once and I have been attempting to assist and warn Arden as well as yourself. I have drawn off as many of the demons as I could, but I fear some have evaded me whilst I walked in Arden’s Kirkwall. I may leave the Fade through mirrors for a brief time but it costs me much unless it is in a place where the Veil is thin or already torn. I will do what I can to assist you however.”_

“Thank you, is it possible to come and speak with you here again? I think I must have a word with Merrill about demons and what she knows, since this is beyond me. I refused to help her so the arulin’holm still rests with her Clan. Arden burned it, so there’s no option for her to release whatever is out there, or seeking the blood of a Hawke on accident. There’s still a demon that wants me, and I will not let it have me.” Vic helped Fenris to sit off to the side and returned once he was sure his lover was not going to fall over on his face the moment he left.

“Is there a sign, anything I can look for? I don’t want to be caught unaware again.” Vic said as he looked at this other Hawke, the one stuck in the in-between, that had died for helping someone he might have considered a friend once.

 _“Look to the mirrors. They will only reflect the truth.”_ Endrin lifted his hand and a silvery white light enveloped it. He traced a symbol before him and it hung there, a pure silvery-white glyph, glowing faintly. _“This glyph will help ward them off. Place it upon each mirror in your home, and only I will be able to appear through that mirror. In great need, I will be able to speak to you there, though it will cost me far more than appearing to you here. But call me at need.”_

Vic held his hand up and the glyph gravitated toward him, he watched at the shape of a rectangle, overlaid with an inverted triangle and held in a circle flashed briefly on his hand then winked out. “Thank you. If you speak to Arden soon, tell him I said hello and thank you for all he did here.” he looked to where Fenris had leaned over with his head between his knees as he tried to keep himself from panicking further.

“I think I should get him home, and ward everything. I will return here after I’ve spoken with my companions. Good luck Endrin.”

Endrin nodded slowly. He raise one hand in farewell, then slowly faded from view until only Invictus’ reflection stared back at him.

Vic went to Fenris and tried to get the elf to look at him. “Love, it’s alright, he’s gone.”

“Don’t care...I ...I want to go home Vic, home you hear me.” the elf’s rich voice was brittle with panic and fear.

“Come on, I’ve got some warding to do while you rest. He apologized for upsetting you.” Vic offered his hand to his lover, his face drawing into a frown as he felt the tremor in Fenris’ grip.

“Home...I want, I need to go home. Please Invictus.” Fenris said as he held his mage’s hand tight as if he would protect him from the Eluvian and all that was going on.

“Alright, I’ll send for Anders later if you need healing or anything I can’t provide.” Vic led them home in silence, his mind whirling for all new reasons.

**

Anders was exhausted. He’d been on his feet non-stop since opening the doors of his clinic with what seemed a never-ending stream of sick and injured people who needed him.

One man had come to him with a nasty infected cut on his arm that had festered; it had taken a lot of Anders’ energy, skill and a vial of lyrium before the infection had been cleansed and the wound closed over and healed. As it was, the man had come dangerously close to losing the arm and very likely his life as the deep-seated infection poisoned his blood. Really the man needed to have come to Anders two days ago, and Anders felt a deep guilty shame that he had not been here when he was needed.

It was guilt that drove him on until well into the evening, driving himself to the point of exhaustion and then beyond, sustained only by a couple of stamina potions and several vials of lyrium from his precious, dwindling store. By the time the last patient had left and he’d extinguished the lanterns, his head was aching and he was dizzy, stomach roiling uneasily over lack of food and too much lyrium. His clothes were stained with the blood of his patients, stinking of the coppery smell and other bodily fluids.

He closed the clinic doors then staggered to the nearest cot, glad that none of his patients had needed to be admitted overnight for nursing or observation. He collapsed rather than sat on the edge and dropped his head into his hands, waiting until the room stopped spinning before he could attempt to move. He wasn’t sure if he was going to throw up or pass out from sheer exhaustion.

When the waves of nausea that rolled through him had finally subsided, he pushed himself to his feet and managed to stagger most of the length of the clinic toward his room before his knees gave way and he fell to the ground, utterly spent.

He knew he needed food, but right now the overwhelming desire to just close his eyes and seek the oblivion of sleep seemed far more enticing. He sighed, eyes fluttering closed.

No. He couldn’t sleep here, on the floor of his clinic.

From somewhere he managed to his last dregs of energy, just enough to crawl off the floor onto the nearest cot. He was too tall for it; as he sank his head down into the lumpy, misshapen pillow that smelled of old straw and mildew, his feet dangled over the end of the cot. His arms hung limply over the sides of the cot. But uncomfortable as it was, his exhaustion was greater, and consciousness rapidly fled as he sank into sleep.

**

Vic had put Fenris to bed, then warded every reflective surface in the house. Once that was done, he sent a message to the clinic requesting Anders return to the estate and assist Fenris. A couple of hours passed with the champion pacing restlessly in the foyer, then the kitchen until Orana shooed him off and finally he checked on Fenris again before he wondered if the other mage was coming or not.

Another hour passed and still the messenger did not return, until Invictus began to wonder if the messenger had simply taken his coin and him for a fool. If Anders had been too busy to see him, surely he would have sent a message back? Or maybe the messenger had been waylaid. There were too many possibilities.

Or maybe Anders had changed his mind about everything and was hiding away from the Champion. Yet he’d seemed quite relieved at Invictus’ offer a meal and somewhere to lay his head any time he needed; it had seemed genuine, not the gratitude of someone about to have a change of heart.

Maybe something had happened to the mage. Maybe the templars had raided his clinic; he’d been concerned that might happen.

Too many what-ifs. The only way to be certain perhaps was to go to the clinic and see for himself.

Vic gathered his things and grabbed his staff without leaving a note or saying anything to Orana or Bodahn; foolish, perhaps, but he was in a hurry and concerned. If anyone saw the Champion striding into Darktown, they didn’t get in his way or say anything to him.

Invictus got to the door and knocked briskly, his worry heightened until he tried the handle and found it unlocked. That wasn’t like the other mage, especially with Templars known to sniff around the clinic more often. He drew his staff and entered quietly, sure he would find the place in disarray and the blond gone. What he saw was worse, and it made him dash over to Anders, and make a distressed noise at the sight of the mage half on the cot, soaked in blood.

“Anders?” he said as he touched the other mage on the shoulder.

Anders groaned and shifted over onto his side slightly, blinking dazedly. “What...where....”

“I sent a runner hours ago and when you didn’t come to the estate...is that your blood?” Vic said cautiously.

“Blood?” echoed Anders, then glanced down at the dark stains down the front of his clothes, dried blood flaking off his hands. “Oh. No. Not mine. Patients. Lots of them.” He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “Didn’t get as far as washing, sorry. I must look a mess.”

“Just relieved it’s not yours. I’m sorry to ask for your help so soon again but Fenris...he, ah had a bit of a fright today and I don’t know what to do for him.” Vic followed behind Anders as the mage slipped off his clothes to wash the blood off and find a clean shirt.

Anders sluiced the drying blood off his arms and hands with cold water before dunking his head to try and clear the fog of sleep. He straightened up with a gasp before towelling his face dry and pulling on a clean but worn and patched shirt. “What sort of fright?” he asked as he untied his ponytail and ran his hands through his blond locks.

“We went to the Emporium after we saw you off and this other Hawke, the red headed one I’d seen in the Fade, spoke to us through the Eluvian. I think it reminded him of his past, the strangeness. The fact that this other Hawke died, leaving his own Fenris to grieve for him. It was just the final bit of too much weirdness for his own peace of mind. I’m not a healer, we all know that. He just curled up in bed and won’t speak, won’t respond. I’m scared that it’s pushed him off a cliff so to speak.”

Vic spoke quietly as he watched Anders move around the clinic, unsure if he was getting ready for bed or to come with him.

Anders scraped his hair back with his hands and retied the ponytail then moved over to the prep area where he kept his pestle and mortar and supplies of herbs and potions. He reached up to a shelf and moved along until he found what he wanted, taking down a couple of dried bundles of herbs. “Has he eaten anything?” he asked as he reached for a small bottle of amber liquid from the racks of potions.

“We had breakfast this morning, that was it. I couldn’t get him to take anything once we got back home.” Vic sat on a nearby cot to watch the other mage work. “Why do you ask?”

“Low blood sugar is likely to worsen his mood,” replied Anders. “Also lack of appetite is in itself a symptom of a number of things. An appetite stimulant would probably be a good idea,” he mused as he selected a small bottle containing a dark green liquid. He started to grind up the herbs in the pestle and mortar, then fetched a pot of water and brought it rapidly to boiling with a gesture, pausing to grip the edge of the table as he blinked and swayed. He shook off the momentary dizziness and reached for a stamina potion, knocking it back swiftly then grimacing at the bitter aftertaste.

He tipped the ground, crushed herbs into the boiled water and a light, refreshing scent filled the air. It made Invictus feel better just smelling it. Anders shook out a handful of blossoms from a jar and added them to the brewing mixture. “That needs to stand for a few minutes,” he said quietly. He turned, wiping his hands on a spare rag as he leaned back against the counter. “How long ago do you think it happened?” he asked.

“How long ago what happened?” Vic asked.

Anders fixed him with a look. “How many hours ago did he go into shock?” he said slowly and patiently.

“Oh, umm five, at most six hours. I thought you might have meant whatever memories he might have been thrown back to by what we saw. The other Hawke spoke to him, called him by name and it freaked him out. Me too, to be honest but he really spiraled fast.” Vic said.

Anders nodded. “With trauma like that, how long ago it happened doesn’t actually matter; when the brain is triggered by certain stimuli, it will snap back to those memories as though it had only just happened. It could be years, it could be months, but it’s still fresh and raw. Unfortunately the act of being triggered is traumatic itself and adds another layer of trauma to the whole thing, so the longer you go without confronting and dealing with that original pain, the worse it gets. From what I understand, there’s been a lot triggering his memories lately, so it’s probably all reaching a crisis point where the brain kind of... shuts down to protect itself from further trauma whilst it sorts itself out.”

He turned to the brewing potion and took a sniff. “Hmm... few more minutes,” he decided, then turned back to Invictus. “From your description, that’s basically what’s happened to Fenris. I’m brewing a potion that will... sort of cushion things for him mentally. It won’t stop him remembering, but it’ll put a kind of... cotton wool in place to buffer him from the worst emotional response to them, which gives him time to mentally sort through things himself. It’ll calm him down and perk up his appetite without affecting his mental acuity or reaction times. Right now, I think trying to use magic directly on him would just freak him out all the more. So I have to use more conventional healing methods, and just augment them a little.”

Invictus was struck by how different Anders sounded when talking of his healing craft. He was the professional healer, calm and detached, pragmatic and at ease with his skills and knowledge.

“Have you any lyrium on you?” Anders asked. “I’m almost out; I had to hit my reserves pretty heavily today.”

“Yes, I did think to take a few vials with me at least.” Vic handed him two and sat back down. “How do you know all of this? It’s like you’re speaking Orlesian in as much as I could understand it and go off to do what you do.” Vic said with a hint of awe in his voice.

“Trained spirit healer, remember?” smiled Anders. “They figured pretty early on that shoving books in front of me was a good way to keep me out of trouble in the Circle. Mostly.” he grinned wryly. “Being a healer is far more than knowing how to wield healing magic - a lot of what I do is more conventional healing with herbs which I augment magically. But in order to be able to heal someone beyond a crude patching up, you need to know how the body actually works and why it goes wrong in the way it does.”

He knocked back the two lyrium vials one after the other then turned and clutched his stomach with one hand, holding onto the edge of the counter with his other hand for balance as he panted, forcing down the waves of nausea even as his veins surged with what felt like fire, his mana reserves suddenly recharged in a body that had been chronically overtaxed that day already. He turned and leaned on the counter, breathing hard, then reached for the potion.

“Anders, do you need help? You look like you’re about to fall down.” Vic came over and tilted the other mage’s face towards his. “How many vials did you take today, including those two? Even I know enough to be cautious with how much I take. Your eyes are a little too bright, should you even be brewing?”

“Don’t distract me,” panted Anders as he pulled away and concentrated on the potion in his hands, channelling mana into it. After a moment, he blinked and set the potion down before rubbing the back of his hand across his brow. “I don’t know... five? six, maybe?” He reached for the dark green potion and uncorked it, his hands trembling as he carefully measured out a small spoonful of the dark liquid then stirred it into the potion which darkened in colour.

“Six! You are going to come with me and get to bed even if I have to tie you down, and you are not moving until you get all that lyrium out of your system. You’re lucky you’re not dead.” Vic snapped at him, his gaze angry and concerned at the same time.

“You can do whatever the Void you like with me once I’m finished brewing this potion for Fenris,” growled Anders. “You want to tie me up, you can go right ahead - hell, you can put a rose between my teeth and wrap me up with a bow and I really won’t give a damn. But right now you need to get the hell out of my face Invictus Hawke or this potion will be ruined and I’ll have to start over from scratch.”

Vic backed up but glared at Anders as he watched him finish up the potion. “Maybe I _should_ tie you up and put a bow on you, that might cheer Fenris up.” He muttered under his breath.

Anders ignored him, reaching for the dark amber potion. He began to add it a few drops at a time whilst casting healing magic into the potion, gently raising the temperature of the potion until it was almost at boiling point again. He sniffed it cautiously, then set aside the amber potion. He cupped both hands around the potion and chilled it gently with ice until it was blood temperature, then he carefully filtered the pale green liquid into an empty flask. Setting aside the near-empty pan he corked the flask then nudged it toward Invictus, his hands shaking too much to trust himself to pick it up.

“It’s done,” he said raggedly.

“Thank you.” Vic put the potion in a belt pouch, then nudged at Anders to sit down. “What do you need to bring? I’ll get it for you.”

“My bag is still packed; it’s over there in my alcove.” He gestured at a ragged curtain hanging over a doorway at the end of the room. “My staff. My coat.” He glanced at the tatty coat and winced at the bloodstains.

Vic gathered it all and helped Anders into his coat, slung the mage’s bag over his own shoulder and handed him his staff. “Come, there’s a shortcut through my basement that will cut the trip in half.”

“Oh thank the Maker,” Anders groaned gratefully. “I don’t think I could make it all the way through the city.” He stood, leaning heavily on his staff and swaying with weariness. “Thank you Hawke,” he said quietly. He took a step then paused, a look of discomfort crossing his tired features. "Excuse me a moment," he murmured then lurched towards the sink and vomited.

Invictus watched, unable to do much to help the other mage as Anders' body attempted to purge itself of the excess of lyrium racing through his system. Anders finally straightened, wiping his mouth with a nearby rag. "Sorry," the blond mage groaned. 

“Better out than in," replied Invictus, shrugging off the apology matter-of-factly. "Now let’s get you to the house before you fall down and I can’t carry you.” Vic led him through the shortcut that let out right at his basement door, then entered through the kitchen. He smiled at Orana and Bodahn as he trailed through on his way to the second floor.

“We’ll have a third for dinner and breakfast, we’ll be down later for dinner.” Hawke said as he held Anders up.

“Of course messere.” Orana gave a small curtsey and set about making more food for the blond mage.

Hawke led Anders up to the guest room and helped him settle into the bed. “I’ll wake you for dinner. How much of the potion do I give Fenris? All of it, half?” he asked softly.

“A third now, another third before he sleeps tonight, the last third in the morning,” answered Anders. He felt exhausted, but the lyrium was still racing like wildfire through his veins, his body occasionally giving little spasmodic jerks as overloaded nerves misfired. He felt wired and restless, nauseated and keyed up despite the exhaustion. It was like being hungover and on an adrenaline high all at once, and he didn’t relish the thought of the inevitable comedown afterwards.

“Alright, if you can’t sleep just come and sit with us. You seem...wired.” Vic said as he observed the random twitches and movements.

Anders nodded. “Side effect of the lyrium... plus the three stamina potions I took which probably didn’t help. The clinic was packed, and a lot of the people should have been seen two or three days ago.” He sighed then grimaced as his body twitched again. “I just don’t have the reserves I used to with Justice. It’s just all me now. Sometimes there just isn’t enough of me to go round though. It’ll wear off soon.” He managed a tired grin. “It probably looks worse than it actually is. I’ll have the hangover from hell tomorrow.”

“I say again, you’re lucky you’re not dead. If you can’t sleep, come with me maybe you can help get through to Fenris.” Vic stood up and stretched before he went to the door.

Anders considered for a moment. If he lay here, he knew he would likely drift off in a short while, lyrium buzz and bodily jerks or no. But he would be able to do more for Fenris if he were physically present to actually observe him, administer the potion and see how he reacted.

He pulled himself up out of bed and gestured to Invictus to lead on.

Vic went into the room and called out to Fenris to let him know he wasn’t alone. “Love, I have Anders with me, do you mind?”

A noncommittal shrug, and a shift of the blankets was his answer. The elf didn’t turn or speak, he was in no mood to deal with anyone else.

Anders made his way over to the bed and sat on the edge next to but not touching the elf, not looking at him. He placed one hand on the bed beside him, close to but not touching the mound of blankets that was Fenris, in a casual movement that might have seemed unconscious had Anders’ eyes not briefly flicked to the lump before dropping to the floor.

He stayed silent, not pressing the elf with even so much as a greeting, waiting for curiosity to start working on the elf as he knew it would eventually as he sat still, one hand flat on the bed between himself and Fenris, the other pressed against his rebellious stomach, just staring at the floor.

Fenris huffed eventually and turned his head slightly to look at Vic then Anders. “What did he drag you here for?” he said resentfully.

“My own good,” replied Anders quietly.

“I thought he might have given up reaching me, and decided to get you to try and baby me too.” the elf said, his tone creeping towards anger instead of bitter.

“You don’t strike me as the kind of man who would tolerate babying,” replied Anders. “Which is just as well because I’m lousy at it.”

“That hasn’t stopped him from trying.” the elf said. “What are you here for, if not because Vic asked on my behalf.”

“I’m rather wired at the moment and although I desperately need to sleep, I can’t,” replied Anders with a shrug. “Hawke figured if I couldn’t sleep, maybe sitting in here for a while might help better than lying in the spare room on my -” he broke off as a spasmodic shiver ran through him and he jerked. “On my own,” he finished.

Fenris eyed the other man warily before he turned around fully. “What else there? You wouldn’t be in here visiting without him asking; especially since I have eschewed his attempts to talk since returning from the Emporium.”

“Didn’t go well then I take it?” Anders remarked sympathetically. “That place gives me the creeps. I always feel I need a good stiff drink after having to go there - which is as rarely as possible.” He shuddered, and it turned into a full-body jerk. He swore quietly as the twitching wore off. “Sorry,” he apologised.

“Do not apologize to me for something you cannot control.” Fenris sat up and eyed the bottle in Vic’s hand. “What’s that for?”

Anders glanced at the bottle. “It’s for shock,” he said quietly. “It blunts some of the feelings that some memories can stir up, without affecting your thoughts. So you can deal with the intrusive stuff without having to go through the painful feelings all over again.” He finally glanced at the elf. “You don’t have to take it. It’s there just in case you wanted something to help.” He dropped his gaze back to the floor.

He figured the elf would probably value the plain truth over tiptoeing around the issue or attempts to trick him into taking the potion. He saw no point in trying to guilt-trip the elf by mentioning that the reason he was suffering so badly from the toxic effects of the lyrium was because he’d made the potion for Fenris; he couldn’t imagine resentment making the elf any more likely to take it. So he held his tongue and waited to see what Fenris would choose to do - accept his help, or suffer alone.

Fenris held his hand out for the bottle, and turned it over in his palm several times before he spoke. “It will help me?” he finally asked in a low voice.

“It won’t fix the things that are causing the problem. But it will mute the pain associated with the memories for a while so you can deal better with the memories. It’ll ease the shock a little.” Anders nodded.

“Will I just sleep, or what will happen?” Fenris asked, his gaze fixed on the bottle.

Vic stood by helplessly as his lover, or was that lovers now...spoke.

Anders shook his head. “It’s not a sedative. It’ll take a little while, but you’ll feel yourself coming out of shock. It’ll be easier to think, and you won’t get the physical symptoms that you usually get when the memories get overwhelming. You’ll be able to recall stuff, but it’ll be like... like it’s behind a thick glass window, really. You can look at it, think about it, but it won’t hurt. There’s a mild appetite stimulant in it as well; usually appetite is one of the first casualties of shock, but you don’t need a blood sugar crash on top of everything else making the physical stuff worse.” He shrugged. “It’s just a temporary helping hand.”

“Very well, you made this even after the full day of healing you had ahead of you when we departed. It would be inconsiderate of me to refuse assistance.” Fenris handed the bottle back. “How much do I take?”

A look of relief crossed Anders’ face. “A third now, another third before you retire to sleep, the last third before breakfast. By the time it eventually wears off the shock should also have passed. You’ll still have to deal with whatever set it off in the first place I guess, but enough time will have elapsed that it won’t hit you so hard by then. The brain is a remarkable thing.”

“I suppose.” Fenris reached over to get a cup that Vic had brought water in earlier and drank it. He then held the cup out for the potion. “Thank you.” the elf said quietly as he watched the liquid splash out.

“You’re welcome,” murmured Anders tiredly. He could feel another shivering fit coming on, and he was feeling wrung out and drained. He bit his lip and tried to suppress the spasms through sheer will.

Fenris downed it then looked to his lover. “How long until dinner?”

Anders wrapped his arms around his stomach as another wave of nausea rolled through him, bowing his head as he felt sweat bead his brow, only half listening to the other two men. He desperately needed to lie down, but he was also afraid he was going to throw up. He bit his lip to hold back a moan.

Fenris stood up and motioned for Anders to lie down. “Rest, I'm going to have a snack.”

Anders nodded his head jerkily, unable to speak. He lay down on his side and dragged the covers up, suddenly feeling icy cold even though he was sweating. He could feel himself starting to shiver and hoped it wasn’t too noticeable under the blankets.

Fenris pulled another blanket out and draped it over Anders. “Perhaps you should light the fire Vic?” he said as he looked at Anders.

“N-n-not c-cold,” Anders managed to gasp out, his teeth starting to chatter. “L-lyrium.” He gritted his teeth and clutched his stomach, drawing his knees up as the churning in his stomach was replaced by a burning pain. Six vials... he had been a bloody idiot.

“That could have killed you, you are an idiot.” Fenris hissed at him.

Anders would have laughed if he didn’t feel so wretched as the elf echoed his own thoughts. “Y-y-you c-can t-t-tell me off l-later...” he managed. He would have said more but speaking was taking too much effort. His only consolation was that he knew this would not last long - not more than a few hours. It only _felt_ like it was going on forever. If he was lucky he would fall asleep soon and sleep through the worst of the symptoms.

“I shall.” Fenris rose and took Vic’s hand. “Come we should talk in the study beloved.”

Anders snuggled down under the blankets and closed his eyes, still shivering. Once they had gone, the silence of the room lulled him and he finally fell asleep.

Vic took the elf’s hand and followed him to the study, worried about what he might hear from his lover.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders makes Fenris worry, a Tranquil mage makes Anders think about things and Fenris has to face a cold, hard truth about himself. Sebastian comes clean but at what price?

Fenris let go of Vic’s hand as he shut the door behind him, He gestured towards the pair of chairs they often occupied when they sat and read together. He started to pour them both a drink, then thought better of it and just poured several fingers worth of Antivan Brandy out for his lover. 

Vic took the nearly full tumbler and watched Fenris pace for a few tense moments, the glass forgotten as the elf spoke.

“I’ve not told you much about my time in Minrathous, some of the depravity that I’ve been a part of. But after today I feel you should know some things, so you can be aware of what might set me off like today. I’m sorry about that Vic, I...it just was my last straw as you’d say.” 

He held a hand up to stop whatever the brown skinned mage was about to say. “No, let me speak or else I’ll continue to hold this in.” After a slow nod from Invictus he sat across from him and continued on. 

“I was used, in every sense of the word. A whore, a bodyguard, a gladiator, if you can think of a purpose for a slave, it was put upon me. Danarius liked to entertain his fellow Senators with me sometimes; especially at Saturnalia balls. I would be pampered, bathed, presented as if I were the finest prize to be had among his holdings. 

“He would also summon Fade creatures, demons most of the time to show his power and his skill at blood magic. Many times he’d let a Desire Demon have its way with me, show that no matter how sharp my teeth, I was his pet. His perfect little toy wolf that rolled over and sat up, killed and served with no reservation. One time he…” 

Fenris paused and collected himself, reached over for Vic’s hand to ground him. “He...held a ball that was meant as a welcome feast for newly elevated Senators. However, it became something more sinister. There was blood magic in every alcove, body slaves being taken over the banquet table, and at the center of it all was an Eluvian. I had no idea of what it was at the time, but thinking back it had to be one.

“He called forth three demons to do his bidding. Two of desire, one of rage to show just what he could do. The Desire demons made the feast into a den of sin that I thought was a nightmare come alive. The rage demon, it...it focused on me for some reason. Perhaps it thought me weak, or he sent it after me but it came to me and tried to make a feast of my emotions.”

The elf stopped again, and stared at the flames for a moment. “I...usually when I’ve thought of my past I have problems, these wild swings in my feelings and right now I feel nothing. Is this what his potion was supposed to do? It’s like I’m telling you something I witnessed but did not experience.” 

Invictus squeezed his hand in his and smiled. “I think it’s supposed to work this way so you can talk through it without getting trapped in the emotion of what happened. Do you want to continue?” 

“I...suppose so. It is just disconcerting to not have the same reaction is all. Perhaps it’s better this way.” Fenris shook his head, squeezed Vic’s hand and picked up his story.

“I went wild, absolutely out of control and all Danarius had to do was point me in the direction of someone he wanted gone and I went after them until there was little left. I spent half the night killing and fucking at his command. I vaguely recall someone calling for my head, but I took his. It was perfect and sinister in a way. I eliminated his enemies, he blamed the demon and punished me as he saw fit to do. After all I was his loyal dog was I not? There were other times he used me, or called things from the Eluvian to test me, but that night is what broke me and made me nearly useless to him. I was unresponsive for days after the creatures influence was gone from my mind. I never had a taste for bloodshed and death. It was trained into me, branded into me with these filthy markings. I think seeing that other Hawke in the mirror today brought it all back. I was ...stuck in the past, the way it felt to stand there, a heart in my hand, drenched in the blood of Magisters, feral and wild all at his pleasure. Then retching my guts out later and crying like a babe.”

Invictus handed him the glass, sure he’d sick up if he drank that much liquor himself. “Love….I wish I’d known, I would never have taken you there.” 

“It’s not your fault, you did not know this part of me before now. It’s so odd to speak of it like it happened to someone else and not me.” Fenris leaned forward and kissed his mage. “Come, enough talk for now. I’m starved and you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Alright.” Invictus stood and led them out of the study towards the kitchen. He paused and pulled Fenris into his arms. “You can tell me anything my heart, anything.”

“Thank you.” the elf said before he pulled away and headed down toward the kitchen and whatever smelled so good.

He’d bring Anders a plate after they’d eaten.

**

Breakfast was served in the rarely-used dining room for once, so Orana would be spared the discomfort of being around Hal more than absolutely necessary. Arden left Fenris to sleep.

Anders wasn’t much happier over the prospect of being in the same room as a Tranquil mage, but he tried to follow Arden’s example and at least be polite to Hal. It was an unnerving experience for him; he’d avoided coming into contact with the Tranquil in his time in the Circle - they reminded all the mages of the ever-present threat of what the templars could do to a mage who stepped too far out of line, after all - and of course there were no Tranquil seen outside the confines of the Tower or the Chantry. To be sat at the same table as one was a novel and disquieting experience.

Orana had prepared several different dishes for a buffet breakfast so the three men could pick and choose what they liked, at Arden’s suggestion. He was curious to see what Hal would do when faced with choice.

The Tranquil mage seemed to have definite tastes for certain things. He took honey with his tea but didn’t touch milk. He ignored the fat, spiced Orlesian sausages but placed a few rashers of bacon on his plate together with a couple of fried potato cakes and a small helping of mushrooms. He sniffed curiously at the smoked fish but didn’t take any.

Anders, being Anders, of course heaped his plate high with some of everything and went back for seconds before Arden had finished his own rather simpler breakfast of oatmeal with honey and dried fruits. Hal ate with small, neat, fastidious bites and cleaned his plate, and Arden wondered if he had been like that before being made Tranquil or if it was part of the training imposed after the Rite had been performed.

The brand upon his forehead was distracting; Arden felt his gaze being drawn back to it repeatedly, and from Anders’ covert glances up from behind his hair the Champion surmised it was having the same effect on the healer. Perhaps he should have Hal wear a scarf or something over his forehead. He would have to hide the brand when he and his father left Kirkwall, at least until his father worked up the nerve to end his son’s half-life existence.

Or maybe he wouldn’t. Arden was less sure that the release of death was perhaps the only logical way to treat one of the Tranquil after Hal’s statement earlier that he would not wish to die. He still felt that given a choice between death or the brand, he would choose death himself - but would he still want someone to end his life if ever he was made Tranquil? For the first time ever since first learning about the Rite from his father, Arden felt doubt.

Evidently Anders’ worldview had been a little shaken by the whole experience; his gaze was troubled as he watched the serene face of Hal whilst the Tranquil mage sipped his tea. Arden watched Anders but held his tongue as the healer leaned forward as if to say something then changed his mind, sitting back and frowning down at his plate. Anders was evidently wrestling with something inside, but Arden decided to say nothing.

Hal appeared quite oblivious to the inspection as he finished his breakfast and turned his attention to his cup of tea.

Anders finished clearing his own plate, then sat back, tapping his fork thoughtfully on the table cloth. “I’ll go speak to Mistress Selby this morning. She’ll get word to Hal’s father.”

Hal did not react at mention of his father; Anders may as well have declared it was raining or that the tea was hot. His smooth blank expression did not change.

Anders leaned forward. “Are you looking forward to seeing your father again?” he asked.

Hal looked up from his mug. “Should I?” he asked with a tone of almost mild curiosity. 

“Don’t you want to see your family?” asked Anders.

“I do not understand why he should wish to see me,” shrugged Hal. “I have not seen him since I was seven.”

“How old are you, Hal?” asked Arden gently.

“Seventeen on my last nameday,” replied Hal, taking another sip of his tea. Anders and Arden both blinked; the blankness of Hal's face had made it hard to guess his age, but they would not have guessed he were still in his teens.

“You’re the last family he has left,” said Anders, watching for any sign of reaction.

“Ah. So my mother and brother are dead.” Hal shrugged as though it meant nothing to him.

Anders’ eyes widened and then he looked away, visibly struggling to contain some strong emotion. He whirled and glared at Arden, and the Champion drew back slightly as blue fire danced in Anders’ eyes.

 _“What was done to him was wrong. Unjust.”_ The apostate’s voice had taken on a hollow, sepulchral tone.

“Anders... calm yourself,” said Arden quietly. 

Hal frowned slightly and shook his head, lifting a hand to his forehead even as Anders rose from his chair, blue cracks splitting apart over his body.

_“WE CANNOT STAND BY WHILST MEREDITH PERPETUATES THESE INJUSTICES ON INNOCENT MAGES!”_

“What... what’s going on?” said Hal, bewildered. “I feel...” He lifted his head and stared at Anders, eyes widening. “I feel! What are you?”

“Anders, calm yourself!” ordered Arden as he pushed himself to his feet and gestured to Hal. “Do you want another Karl on our hands?”

“No...n-no....” Justice receded, the blue fire fading from his eyes as Anders’ chest heaved. He grasped the back of a nearby chair, panting. “Maker, that was so close. I couldn’t stop him. It’s getting harder to contain him every day.”

Arden moved around the table to draw the blond apostate into his arms.

“It’s alright, love. I’m here.”

Anders said nothing, merely turning to bury his face against the soft velvet of Arden’s tunic. After several minutes, he lifted his head and took a deep breath. “I’ll be alright,” he said quietly.

“What are you?” breathed Hal. “It was like a breath of the Fade... like I woke up from a deep sleep but I wasn’t....” The light in his amber eyes slowly died and his face became smooth, unlined and blank once more.

“Oh Maker, no... just like Karl. I’m sorry love, I can’t handle this, I...I just can’t. I’ll go to Selby now.” Anders pulled away and rapidly strode from the room.

Fenris entered just as Anders was exiting the room, he nearly collided with him as the mage rushed by. “Morning to you too.” 

Anders spun on one heel, walking backwards towards the foyer. “I can’t stay here with that...that...with him,” he said tersely. “I’m going to find Mistress Selby so we can send him on his way.” He turned, grabbed his staff from the stand near the door then left, almost running in his desire to put as much space between himself and the Tranquil mage as possible.

“Wait, did you already forget what happened yesterday? Do you want to get snatched off the street and thrown in a cell? Give me a chance to wake up and I will go with you.” Fenris said gruffly, his voice thick with sleep and irritation.

Anders paused on the doorstep, not looking back. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said. “But I can’t stay here a moment longer.”

“Anders, I do not relish the idea of breaking you out of the Gallows. Slow down, go upstairs, something but do not leave this house without me.” Fenris snapped as he followed his lover and grabbed his arm. “Do not do this.”

“You don’t understand,” breathed Anders, his gaze on the floor just to the left of the elf. “I see that brand, and all I can think of is Karl’s blood on my hands. I need to get away. Just for a little while.”

“Fine, get killed or worse.” Fenris turned away and headed into the kitchen for something to eat. He had no patience for melodramatics first thing upon waking up.

Anders watched him go, eyes clouding with hurt, then turned away, heading for the nearest stone stairway down to Lowtown. He knew the back ways and hidden passages better than anyone he knew. He’d avoided templar patrols for over six years now; he was confident he could reach Selby unseen. He tried to push his feeling of dejection over Fenris’ harshness to the back of his mind, but it coloured his already dark and troubled thoughts as he headed down through the city.

Orana was bustling around in the kitchen but straightened as Fenris entered. “Oh, serah! You startled me!” she exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron. “Breakfast is in the dining room, but I can make you some tea if you wish?”

Fenris nodded and headed into the dining room. “That would be appreciated, thank you.” he replied then stopped short as he saw Hal sitting there, sipping his tea and staring at nothing in particular.

Arden glanced up from his own seat as Fenris entered. “Morning, love,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry if we awakened you.” 

Hal glanced up at Fenris, his eyes devoid of anything other than perhaps a very mild curiosity.

Fenris arched his eyebrow then looked at the Tranquil mage. “Morning; I take it Anders was unable to deal with our guest?” he said mildly.

“You could say that,” agreed Arden. “Justice wasn’t happy and came out to play which... seemed to wake Hal up. Just as it had with Karl.”

“I was not asleep,” remarked Hal placidly.

“I see,” Fenris said, a hint of guilt crept into his voice for being so harsh with Anders. He turned to Hal and studied the brand on his forehead. “Does ...it hurt? Your brand.”

“It was painful when they first performed the Rite upon me but it does not trouble me now,” replied the Tranquil mage.

“I see. Apologies, I did not mean to offend you.” Fenris ate quietly, his gaze flicking up to the brand, his gaze drawn to it despite his efforts to ignore it.

“You cannot offend me. I am Tranquil. I cannot feel shame or distress or embarrassment or any other emotion you may ascribe to one in my position.” Hal shrugged. He glanced to Arden. “What are my duties?”

Arden nearly choked on his tea and started coughing. 

Fenris patted Arden on the back then looked to the former mage. “You have no duties Hal, you are not a servant here.”

A small frown wrinkled Hal’s brow. “But the Tranquil are made to serve. It is what we do. What am I to do if I have no duties?”

Fenris took a calming breath and apologized in Arden’s ear before he spoke. “You may go to the cellar and take stock of everything there until someone comes to retrieve you. Parchment, quill and ink are in the table by the door.”

Hal rose and inclined his head. Then he turned and strode smoothly to the desk, retrieving the writing materials before departing towards the cellar. The faint sound of an alarmed squeal and a pot dropping to the floor echoed back from the kitchen.

Arden grimaced. “Orana finds Hal... disturbing,” he explained. “I can’t say I blame her.”

“It is … bothersome. I never saw Tranquil mages before escaping Tevinter. It was reserved for the most despicable criminals.” Fenris said as he leaned against Arden and sighed. “I should likely apologize to Anders when he comes home.”

“I think Anders is finding Hal very hard to be around,” agreed Arden. “He asked Hal yesterday if he would rather be dead than Tranquil - and Hal said no. Anders... found that hard to handle.” He shook his head and sighed. “Karl... when Justice’s presence woke him briefly from his Tranquil state, he actually begged Anders to kill him. But Hal is not Karl.”

“He looked so distraught and I was not...kind. Will he return soon or should I look for him?” Fenris said quietly as he rested his head on Arden’s shoulder.

“He was going to Mistress Selby to have word sent to Hal’s father. I guess it depends on how long it takes him to find her.” Arden shrugged. “Anders will come back when he’s ready. He may go down to his clinic for a while maybe. If he’s not back here in an hour, perhaps you should go look for him there?”

“Alright love, I’m going to get a bath and dress; maybe I’ll feel better after I’ve cleaned up.” Fenris kissed Arden on the cheek and rose to go.

**

Anders ducked into a narrow alleyway and held his breath as the Templar patrol passed by. He didn’t think they’d seen him, but he passed a few anxious moments until they had passed by. He stayed in the alleyway a little longer before slipping back out into the street and continued on his way.

His heart was racing, almost as fast as his thoughts. Karl had begged him for death. He had to hold to that memory, that fact: Karl had actually said he wanted to die, in those brief moments of clarity. That Hal did not request the same thing... it meant nothing. Whatever his right mind might be, he wasn’t in it right now - he was just another docile Tranquil mage, and Anders needed to put as much distance between himself and Hal as he could.

_Himself? Or Justice?_

His footsteps slowed as he approached the docks, struck by the thought. Was it Hal he was afraid of - all he represented, the painful memories his presence dredged up - or the effect Justice had on him? 

The Rite of Tranquility was not infallible. The presence of a powerful spirit of the Fade was enough to at least temporarily reawaken a Tranquil mage. Were he to remain around Hal, the mage would reawaken every time Justice reared himself within the blond apostate. He could not remain around Hal forever, and Justice could not keep control of Anders’ form indefinitely just to keep Hal awake but -

Anders staggered to a stop, one hand braced against the wall of a warehouse as his eyes widened over where his chain of thought had led.

_No. It couldn’t work. Could it?_

_Why not?_

_No... that would be monstrous. Mages are made Tranquil to prevent them becoming abominations; to try and create one deliberately...! And what demon would ever be attracted to one of the Tranquil anyway? They are dead to the Fade!_

_But who said anything about demons...?_

“No... madness, this is madness!” breathed Anders, horrified; and yet the thought would not leave him.

“No, madness would be standing in a dark corner talking to yourself, Healer.”

He whirled in alarm, then sagged with relief as Selby halted just in front of him, her hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she observed.

“Perhaps I have,” murmured Anders quietly.

**

Anders was still lost deep in thought when he returned to his clinic, but he was soon jolted from his reverie when he took in the sight of the doors smashed open, one swinging drunkenly from the top hinge, the other smashed off entirely. Stepping gingerly past the splintered pieces of wood he unslung his staff, pooling mana in one hand in readiness as he glanced through the dark doorway.

The clinic was deserted; whoever had broken in had done a thorough job of smashing cots to pieces, tipping over other furniture and ripping up bedding but had long since gone. Anders’ boots crunched on broken glass, and he sighed over the ruins of his collections of herbs crushed into the dirt floor.

It could have been worse, he reflected, as he wedged the pieces of the doors shut then surveyed the wreckage; whoever did this might have caught him still here. It would take a while to sort this mess out.

Stripping off his coat and standing his staff in a corner, he grabbed the one broom they’d left intact and began the slow job of cleaning up.

Fenris came upon the clinic doors, his apprehension running high as he took in the state of the place. His heart slowed back to normal after he caught sight of Anders scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees.

“What happened here?”

Anders paused then sat back on his heels, pushing his hair out of his face with the heel of one hand, unheeding of the smear of dirt he left across his cheek as he glanced over his shoulder at Fenris.

“Templars, Coterie - who knows?” he shrugged. “Someone who came looking for something, didn’t find it and decided to take their frustrations out on the place instead of me, I guess.” He gestured at the broken remains of his preparation bench. “It took me months to gather all those herbs, prepare all those potions and medicines.” He sighed and shook his head then returned to scrubbing the floor, shoulders slumping a little.

“I am relieved you are safe love. When you didn’t come back, I was worried.” Fenris came over and helped Anders to his feet.

Anders let his head drop to rest upon the elf’s shoulder. “Sorry, love,” he said quietly. “I... had a lot of thinking to do.”

“I owe you an apology as well, I was unkind this morning. Forgive me please.” the elf held his mage close and sighed in relief.

Anders let his own arms close around his warrior. “Always, love,” he breathed into the white hair. “I wasn’t exactly at my best either.”

“There was no excuse for my words, please let’s go home. Arden is concerned as well. This will keep until later.” Fenris’ voice was ragged as he spoke, his worry that Anders had been snatched off the street abating slowly as they stood there.

Anders nodded, then reluctantly pulled away so he could grab his staff and coat, pulling on the tatty garment. Shrugging the feathered pauldrons on, he bent down and picked up a small tattered satchel he’d packed with what few potions and items he’d managed to salvage then turned to the elf with a tired smile. “I’m ready,” he said quietly.

“Alright.” Fenris took his hand and led them home, his thoughts whirling as they went.

Hal glanced up as they entered the cellar, and Anders halted, dragging Fenris to a halt with him. Hal ignored the mage, glancing to Fenris.

“I have completed the inventory as requested,” he said.

“Thank you Hal, please wait here for Arden he will escort you upstairs.”

“No... wait...” breathed Anders, taking a step towards Hal then halting again as he frowned and shook his head. “No... it can’t... no, it would be....” He put a hand to his head.

“Anders, what are you doing?” Fenris said.

Dropping the elf’s hand, Anders closed the distance between himself and the Tranquil mage, his breathing becoming hoarse and ragged as Hal lifted incurious eyes to regard him blankly. 

“We can’t do this... don’t you see, it can’t possibly work,” Anders muttered to himself as he stared fixedly at the brand that marred Hal’s smooth forehead.

“Do what? What are you talking about?” Fenris asked in confusion.

Anders stared hard at Hal, then lowered his head. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m just tired,” he said with a sigh, turning away from the Tranquil mage who continued to regard him with a complete absence of emotion.

“Let’s go upstairs.” Fenris hustled him up towards the first floor with a curious glance back at Hal then up at his lover. He called out to Arden as he went, unsure where the blond mage had gone during his absence.

Arden appeared at the upper landing rail and glanced down, a book in his hand. “Up here, Fenris, I was just -” He broke off at sight of Anders, dishevelled, dirt smearing his face. “Maker, what happened?” He tossed the book onto a nearby table and descended the stairs swiftly, hurrying to check Anders over. “Are you hurt?”

Anders shook his head. “Just dirt, love,” he said tiredly. “Someone trashed the clinic. Again.”

“Arden, can you retrieve Hal? He’s done with the work I set him and he’s just...standing there.” Fenris said with a slight shudder.

“That’s what the Tranquil do if they have no set routine,” said Anders. “Once they get into a routine and know their duties they’re fine, but in a new situation you pretty much have to tell them what to do constantly.” His mouth pulled down into a small mou of distaste.

“I’ll deal with it,” nodded Arden. “Fenris, why don’t you take Anders upstairs?” He glanced back to the blond apostate. “You look like you could use a good hot soak.”

“Yes Arden.” Fenris tugged at Anders so the mage would follow him upstairs. Anders let himself be drawn up the stairs. He paused in the bedroom to divest himself of bag, staff and coat then sat on the edge of the bed to tug off his boots, then sat staring into space for a moment, seemingly lost in thought again.

“Love?” Fenris queried as he tugged off his tunic and tossed it to the side. He didn’t need a bath, but he wanted to remain close to Anders for a while.

Anders blinked and came back to himself. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “Just... thinking. Stuff.” He stood up and stripped his shirt off, letting it fall to the ground. “Hot bath sounds good,” he confessed.

“Yeah, let me join you?” Fenris asked even as he headed towards the bathing chamber. Anders nodded as he followed him. Pushing the door closed behind them, he finished stripping off as Fenris started the tub filling.

Fenris let the tub settle before he got a bucket and sluiced off the day’s grime and weariness with warm water. Anders pulled the leather thong from his hair, shaking his dirty blond locks loose. He sluiced the worst of the dirt off, then dunked his head briefly. He paused, looking down into the bucket; for a moment he thought he’d seen a flash of red, but when he stared down he saw only his own reflection.

“Going mad,” he mumbled to himself then snorted with stifled laughter.

Fenris turned around and stared at him with a hint of worry. “Anders, you are starting to scare me. Talk to me love.”

“I’m sorry love,” breathed Anders. “Justice is... being very... loud right now. I just need...” He dropped his head and rubbed his face with one hand. “I hate to ask... but....” He glanced up at Fenris. “Your lyrium... soothes him sometimes. Would you...?” 

“Would I what?” he said skeptically. Fenris was unnerved by his lovers behavior.

“I... would you...” He gestured to the elf and swallowed hard. “Your brands. When they light up... he goes quiet for a while. I hate to ask and I quite understand if the answer’s no, I just....” His voice tailed off as he lifted miserable amber eyes to meet Fenris’ stare.

“Oh...I can do that, especially if you need help.” Fenris sat in the tub and waited for Anders to join him before he let his brands light up; the glow gave the room a muted blue tone which reminded him of the Fade, but he pushed those thoughts away for the moment.

Anders groaned quietly and slowly relaxed back against the elf, becoming almost limp as he closed his eyes and his face relaxed, the lines of tension smoothing as a small half-smile curved his lips. “He’s quiet at last,” he murmured. “Thank you love.”

“You’re welcome,” Fenris said softly as he closed his eyes and tried not think too much about the strange way Anders had acted. “Wake me when you’re done.”

“Hmmm?” murmured Anders drowsily.

“I said wake me when you are done bathing, but it sounds like you need the wake up call more,” Fenris murmured.

Anders turned his head a little, nuzzling against Fenris’ chest. “‘s warm. Sleepy.” 

“I am not a pillow, finish bathing so we can get out of here,” Fenris muttered.

Anders muttered something sleepily to himself then pulled himself upright and reached for a cloth and the soap. Lathering it up, he began to scrub himself, blinking sleepily, before splashing water over his face to wake himself up somewhat. He glanced over his shoulder at Fenris.

Fenris didn’t move, but he opened one green eye when he felt Anders move. “Did that help?” he asked quietly. Anders nodded.

“I feel somewhat more human now,” he agreed. Straightening, he stretched, arching his back until it clicked audibly. 

“Glad I could be of assistance. If you are done, I would like to get out.” Fenris said. 

Anders pulled himself to his feet and stepped easily over the side of the tub, swinging his long legs over gracefully before reaching down a hand to offer assistance to the elf.

He took his lover’s hand and stood up, his departure from the tub quick since he felt a chill. Fenris wrapped a towel around himself and headed back into their room. The elf slipped under the covers and sighed in contentment at being warm again.

Anders emptied the tub then splashed some ice-cold water on his face to wake himself up a little more, then pulled a towel around himself and returned to the bedroom. He smiled at the elf snuggled under the down comforter, as he crossed to the garderobe and hunted through for a clean shirt and leggings. Donning fresh smallclothes, he dressed swiftly then smoothed the wet hair back from his face.

“Will you be alright? You can stay in here with me for a bit, I wouldn’t mind the company.” Fenris said. 

“I think so,” replied Anders as he walked over to the bed then sat on the edge, his back against the pillows and one leg stretched out beside Fenris. “What’s been happening whilst I was gone? I didn’t mean to stay away quite so long; I lost track of time in the clinic.”

“I think I scared the piss out of Sebastian when he arrived, but not much else has happened. I actually fell asleep again for awhile after you left.” the elf said as he turned to his side to curl against his lover. Anders put his arm around the elf and snuggled him closer.

“Oh? What did you do to him?” asked Anders, tensing slightly, remembering Fenris’ vehemence that Sebastian had been involved on the assault on Arden.

“Looked at him,” Fenris replied with no humor in his tone.

“I think I can guess the look in question,” replied Anders quietly. “Love, you’d terrify me if you looked at me that way. Maker only knows what that did to Sebastian. I’d hate to see what would happen if you two were shut alone in a room together right now.”

“Only one of us would walk out, you know exactly what would happen. I plan to pay him a call soon and find out if I am wrong or …” Fenris trailed off, the promise of what he’d do to the rogue in the air between them.

“Love... don’t go alone. If you’re right....” Anders’ voice trailed off. 

“If I’m right, no one needs to pay for what I’ll do to him. I cannot soil Arden’s name with my vengeance.” Fenris glanced up at Anders briefly. “I just hope I am wrong.”

“You and I both, love,” said Anders unhappily. “But if you’re right - I don’t understand, why wouldn’t -” Anders broke off. “He wouldn’t keep silent just so he could blackmail Sebastian into doing stuff for him... would he?” He appeared to be utterly horrified at the words even as he said them. “No, no, this is Arden we’re talking about, not Invictus. He wouldn’t do that. It happened long before Invictus showed up here. He must be trying to protect someone - one of us?” He groaned. “Maker, I don’t know what to think. My thoughts are going in circles now.”

“I need nor want any such protection. I think Invictus rubbed off on him in less than savory ways. You saw how he lost his temper yesterday.” Fenris muttered.

Anders shivered. “I’ve rarely seen him lose it like that.”

“I’ve never seen it and I don’t like it. He was almost...feral when he spoke with Sebastian at the Hanged Man.” Fenris closed his eyes and reached out to touch Anders. “Stay with me, I am unsettled by you being gone so long.”

Anders turned and curled himself around the elf. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you love,” he said softly. “Being around one of the Tranquil unsettled me badly.”

“I didn’t mean to be an ass, so we’re even.” Fenris draped his arm around Anders’ waist and tried to relax.

“You weren’t an ass. Grumpy perhaps, but not an ass.” Anders pressed a kiss to the top of the elf’s head.

“Mmm, as you say love.” the elf muttered as he nuzzled against Anders neck and bit at him softly.

Anders groaned softly and arched his neck back, baring his throat for the elf’s teeth. “You can keep doing that,” he murmured.

“As you wish.” Fenris muttered before he began to worry his mage’s neck and shoulder in earnest.

Anders slid down the bed until his head was pressed back into the pillows. “Harder,” he whispered.

“Needy mage.” Fenris whispered before he obliged his lover. Anders moaned breathlessly, threading his fingers into Fenris’ soft silky white hair.

“Yes....” breathed the mage.

“Mine? Say it.” Fenris growled in his ear, his voice rough with need.

Anders gasped, his eyes fluttering closed. “I am yours,” he breathed.

“Not anyone else’s… except Arden.” Fenris snarled as he straddled the tall blond and took his mouth in a harsh kiss. Anders let his hands fall to either side of his head and moaned into Fenris’ mouth as his lips parted willingly for the warrior’s tongue, submitting totally.

“You’re wearing too much, give yourself to me.” Fenris growled with a hard bite to Anders lower lip. 

Anders whimpered but obediently moved his hands to his shirt, unbuttoning it swiftly. He pushed at Fenris gently. “Up,” he urged him as he reached for the waistband of his pants.

The elf shifted aside just far enough for Anders to unlace himself and push his pants and smallclothes down over his hips, then kick the garments off the rest of the way before he settled back into place straddling Anders’ hips, pinning the blond to the bed even as Anders struggled to pull the shirt off, the cuffs catching around his wrists. 

Finding himself tied up in the shirt with his hands bound in the fabric behind his back, he laughed breathlessly then dropped back to the bed, folding his bound wrists to lie against the small of his back.

“It seems you have me at your mercy... Ser,” said Anders softly with a low chuckle. “Do with me as you will.”

“I must have been good and it’s my Name Day. Else why would I get such a nice present, all wrapped up in my bed?” Fenris purred before he leaned down and kissed Anders hungrily, his nails raked down the apostates chest as he moved down, his lips and tongue trailing down the same path as his fingers.

Anders cried out softly then drew his breath in with a hiss as the elf’s tongue lightly brushed over the raised weals traced over his ribs from Fenris’ sharp nails. “Oh Maker,” he breathed. “You can do that to me again.” His eyes were dark with desire as he lifted his head and stared down at the elf.

“I’ll do what I please with you mage.” Fenris rumbled before he sat back on his haunches and took Anders into his mouth, slow and deep strokes like he knew the blond liked. He was in a mood to claim Anders and he planned to do that until they were sated. Arden moaned as he felt the elf’s hot wet mouth swallow him down.

Fenris pulled away only enough to get comfortable and go back to the slow cock sucking he’d started. Anders’ breath quickened and he bit his lip to keep from crying out again, a faint whine escaping from the back of his throat as he threw his head back, eyes closed, lost in the sensations flooding through his body.

The elf pulled away with a lewd pop and smiled at his lover. “I think I want to ride you, make you scream for me.” Fenris rasped before he climbed up the bed and straddled Anders chest. “First, I want you to suck my cock, will you be alright in this position love?” he said softly.

“I think so,” nodded Anders. He slid a little further down in the bed then lifted his head to reach the elf’s member, his tongue flicking out to curl around the head and then swallow him in, bracing himself up on his elbows as the folds of the shirt pinned his wrists tight. His head bobbed as he worked his tongue along the elf’s shaft, and he hummed deep in his throat as he felt Fenris grow harder in his mouth under the ministrations of his lips and tongue.

Fenris leaned forward and braced one arm on the wall, then reached down to caress and cradle the back of Anders neck so he didn’t hurt him as he started to thrust shallowly into the other man’s mouth. “Fuck…” he moaned at the sensation.

Anders wriggled a little further down the bed so Fenris could thrust deeper, tilting his head back as the elf shifted into position better. The blond apostate moaned encouragingly then swallowed around Fenris’ cock.

“Fuck...so good at this.” the elf said in between gasps. Almost want to come like this.” he moaned even as he went faster and deeper in Anders’ mouth. Anders groaned as he felt the elf’s cock graze the back of his throat and he willed down his gag reflex, breathing hard through his nose, chest heaving as he panted, each deep thrust briefly choking him.

With a reluctant growl Fenris pulled back before he came too soon for what he wanted. He tugged Anders over to his side so he could untangle his arms. “While I like having you at my mercy, that can’t be comfortable.” 

Anders shook his head, panting. “It’s fine...I’m OK,” he gasped. “Unless you want to do a proper job with something else?” He glanced back over his shoulder. “I...please?”

Fenris frowned and then let Anders roll to his back again. “Fine, but tell me if it hurts or you don’t want to be tied any longer. I have no desire to harm you, no matter what game we play beloved.” he reached over to the bedside table and got the oil, coated his fingers and leaned forward to kiss Anders while he stretched himself. No matter the length of time they were together, it was one thing he didn’t let them do to him, or watch. 

Anders returned the kiss hungrily then pulled away slightly. “You want this, love?” he said quietly. He was so used to being the one taken, this change was throwing him slightly.

“Yeah, I’m just in the mood for you to have me. Something wrong?” Fenris had stopped moving his fingers, satisfied with how open he was before he wiped his hand clean on a towel and focused on his lover.

Anders shook his head. “No, just... it’s different, is all,” he replied. “I’m so used to you taking me, you so rarely want it the other way round. But if you want this, then I want it too, love.”

“Good, no need to worry love. Sit back and enjoy the ride.” Fenris kissed him one more time before he reached back to slick Anders up with more oil than he’d have used while fucking the mage but it had been a while since he’d allowed either of them to take him.

The elf closed his eyes and worked the thick cock into himself slowly, sometimes stopping to make himself relax and allow the intrusion until he was finally settled on Anders’ hips. “Maker...is this how it feels for you?” he moaned wantonly.

Anders held still until Fenris had sunk down all the way upon his member before he bent his knees and braced his feet flat against the bed; then he began to slowly, gently rock himself into the elf. “Probably... though there’s also... the whole submission thing,” he breathed. “You’re still the one in control here.” He groaned; Fenris’ body felt so good, so tight around his cock; it was taking all his willpower not to give in to the urge to snap his hips faster and thrust up into the elf’s body.

Fenris dropped his head back and moaned in pleasure. “More… faster...more.” he said even as he tried to keep from wrapping his legs around Anders and riding him to a hard and fast end.

Anders obeyed, using his bound arms to brace himself against the bed as he thrust faster into Fenris’ willing body, trying to angle his hips slightly to hit Fenris’ sweet spot, his own breaths coming as ragged gasps as a growing tension coiled hot and insistent in his groin.

The mages increased thrusts made Fenris cry out, call on Anders as he started to move in counterpoint, to get closer to the edge. His cries were in Trade and Tevinter even as he started to beg for release.

Anders panted with each thrust, his strokes coming faster as his own climax approached, trying to bring the elf to release as he circled his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts, anything to help Fenris come. His back was beginning to complain from the strain of all the effort, his arms and thighs trembling as he threw his head back and closed his eyes.

Both men were oblivious to the sound of the door opening and a low indrawn hiss of breath.

Fenris wouldn’t have heard anything over the sounds he was making. He started to call Anders, to ask for release in Tevene as he leaned forward and let the mage thrust hard into him. He dropped kisses erratically against the blond’s chest as he trembled. “Please love...so...close.” he finally uttered inTrade before he lost himself again.

A warm arm curled around Fenris’ waist, drawing him back against a firm body as lips pressed kisses to his sweaty skin and a slender yet warm hand curled around his cock, closing firmly around his hard flesh and starting to pump slowly. “Come for us, love,” breathed Arden.

Anders’ eyes flew open and he gasped as he stared down at the other mage. With an effort of will he channeled a little healing magic through his own body and up into Fenris.

That pushed Fenris over the edge, his orgasm brought along with a scream that would have brought half the household running if they weren’t used to the noisy lovemaking the trio often got up to. Anders came almost simultaneously with a hoarse cry that tailed off into ragged gasps. 

Fenris muttered something in Tevene as he felt Anders fill him, a needy, low moan followed the spasms from his lover. He turned and kissed Arden’s cheek even as he moaned again with Anders’ small movements beneath him. Fenris trembled in Arden’s grasp even as he tried to slide over and take his weight off Anders. 

The blond apostate was trembling as well, limbs unused to such strenuous activity. He panted, his heart racing.

Arden braced his arms around Fenris and gently helped him lift himself up off the exhausted Anders then gently laid the elf down upon the bed next to the mage. Pressing a gentle kiss to Fenris’ cheek, Arden got up and fetched warm water, flannel and towels before returning to gently wash his lovers each in turn, patting them dry and then gently freeing Anders’ wrists from the knotted up shirt that had become tightly twisted around them. 

He rubbed the apostate’s wrists and channeled a little healing magic into them to ease the bruising that had started to bloom against Anders’ pale skin, then he drew the down comforter up over them both. He left the room briefly then returned with two glasses of water.

Fenris didn’t stir until he felt the cold glass pressed into his hand. “Hmm, thank you.” he muttered after he’d drained his water and settled back under the covers.

Anders needed a little help to sit up; Arden slipped in behind him and held him gently with one arm as he lifted the glass to Anders’ lips. The blond apostate sipped slowly then let his head fall back to rest on Arden’s shoulder.

“Fenris, what have I told you about breaking our healer?” teased Arden.

The elf rolled over and rested his arm over their lover's legs. “M’sorry, I told him...to let me know if it hurt.” he said groggily. “You ok Anders?”

“It didn’t hurt,” murmured Anders. “I was just doing nearly all the work.” He winced as his back gave a twinge. “Well, maybe my back hurt a little,” he confessed. “I didn’t think you’d want me to stop though.”

Arden smiled gently and the blue glow of healing energy surrounded his hand as he gently healed Anders. The apostate groaned in relief as the ache died away. “Oh he’s good, can we keep him?” he murmured. Arden snorted in amusement.

“I’m all for it.” Fenris said as he sat up and pulled them over for slow kisses. “Next time, if it hurts stop. I don’t care what we’re doing. Promise me love?” he said slowly.

“I’ll try,” said Anders slowly. “I can’t guarantee I will be able to though. We were both so close, I don’t think I could have stopped even if I’d wanted to.”

“Your self-destructive streak scares me sometimes, Anders,” said Arden quietly.

“Then I’ll stop us. Fuck, I’m sore.” Fenris muttered as he sat up next to Anders.

Arden lifted his hand and the blue glow suffused his fingers as he raised an eyebrow at Fenris.

“Go ahead.” The elf muttered as he braced himself for the feel of magical healing to wash over him.

Arden’s magic felt different to Anders’ as it flowed through him in a rippling wave, soothing and cooling. The ache inside dispersed, smoothed away at the touch of the magic. 

“Better, love?” asked Arden.

“Yeah, thanks...now I think a nap and dinner is in order. What made you come upstairs anyway? I thought you were with your _guest_.” Fenris demurred so he wouldn’t upset Anders again.

“I came to find what was taking you two so long,” replied Arden. “Hal is currently cataloguing all the books in the library.”

“Hmm, alright. I got distracted by a naked apostate in the bed. Sorry love.” Fenris slipped back under the covers and sighed contentedly. 

“I should point out I was only naked because he ordered me to strip,” replied Anders, comfortably reclined against Arden.

“You two do realise it’s only the middle of the afternoon don’t you?” asked Arden.

“Don’t care, he wore me out.” Fenris muttered from his cocoon. “Unless you wanted me to ride you too?” 

“I seem to recall I was the one doing most of the work,” muttered Anders. “Besides, Arden never lets you ride him.”

That made Fenris’ head pop out from under the covers again as he looked at his other lover. “Now that I think about it, he’s right. I’ve never…” Fenris made a vaguely rude gesture indicating what he meant.

“Nor has Anders,” replied Arden quietly. “I’d... prefer to keep it that way.” he glanced away, discomforted.

Fenris tilted his lover’s face towards him, expression concerned. “What’s wrong? You seem bothered, I don’t...I don’t want you to feel left out love. If you ever want to have me, you merely need to ask.” 

Arden shook his head, not meeting Fenris’ eyes. “It... doesn’t work for me,” he replied quietly. “I...can’t.”

Arden’s words made him frown and tilt the other man’s face until he had to look Fenris in the eye. “You worry me with your words beloved. Neither of us would harm you, you know that. Talk to me please.” 

Arden blinked but held Fenris’ gaze. “I just don’t work that way. I can’t... switch. I... please, just accept it’s something I’m not comfortable with. I’m much happier being taken by either or both of you. I just...” His voice tailed off and he tried to smile. “I thought you liked being the dominant one in bed?” he tried to joke.

“I do, but never at the cost of your happiness or pleasure. Nor Anders, I have been used and mistreated far too often to take pleasure in such things. I enjoy it because you both allow me to be in charge, I have no illusion that I could continue if either of you expressed dislike, or fear or pain with me. I didn’t mean to upset you Arden, I’m sorry.” Fenris brushed a soft kiss to the Champion’s lips before he pulled away.

“But I do enjoy submitting to you,” breathed Arden. He reached a hand out to stroke the hair back out of Fenris’ eyes. “Having you fill me... it does make me happy. Believe me.”

“Alright.” Fenris said before he slipped out of bed for another quick wash at the basin. “So much for a nap, perhaps I will make a run to the market for some of our favorites to have later. Would either of you like something specific?” the elf asked as he looked around for his clothes.

“Fresh apples?” asked Anders hopefully as he sat up. “The little golden ones from Ferelden if you can find any?”

“Of course.” Fenris strapped on his belt and fiddled with his pauldrons as he awaited Arden’s answer.

“Surprise me, love,” suggested Arden as he slipped out from behind Anders then made his way to the wardrobe and tossed a clean shirt to the blond mage. Anders caught it and pulled it on, leaving it open as he swung his legs out from under the covers and stood up, reaching for his smallclothes and pants. He tugged them on slowly, then glanced around for the piece of leather thong he customarily tied his hair back with before giving up with a shrug. 

** 

Fenris gave them both a brief kiss before he left them for his errands. He didn’t like that Arden was so comfortable being used, it bothered him as he walked almost to the point of distraction. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn’t see the person he’d run into until they were both staggering back.

“Apologies mess--” his voice trailed off as he looked up to see Sebastian’s face. “Well, my day just got interesting. Walk with me Vael.” Fenris snarled softly as he straightened up and tilted his head towards a nearby path.

Sebastian’ blue eyes grew troubled but he merely inclined his head. “As you wish, Fenris,” he replied quietly. “Was there... something you wished to discuss?”

“Yes a mutual friend of ours, now follow me before I drag you.” Fenris smiled at Sebastian without a hint of warmth. He headed down the path towards one of the alcoves that dotted High Town’s market square. It was almost too easy to pull the errant prince into a side door that let them into a warehouse, empty save for a few rotting crates. 

“This friend wouldn’t be the Champion, perchance, would it?” asked Sebastian, glancing uneasily around the warehouse.

“Why yes, and from the nervous way you’re acting Sebastian, I fear my suspicions are correct. What did you do to Arden?” Fenris said with no preamble, his gaze hard and his markings glowed as he advanced on the other man. 

Sebastian’s eyes widened and he took a step back, his hands rising placatingly. “Nothing, nothing, I swear Fenris! I never laid hands upon him save to bring him home and dress his wounds after the- the Templar attack. You surely don’t think....” His voice trailed off as he took another step back, reading murderous intent in Fenris’ emerald glare. “You do,” he breathed. “I swear upon the Maker I did not harm him!”

“You lie!” Fenris yelled as he punched the wall next to Sebastian. “I’ve been mistreated Sebastian, I’ve been hurt by several men at once. Anders and Arden think I have no clue what was done to him. But I do, Creators help me but I know all too well the pained limping, the refusal to look at someone, the permissiveness he gives me and Anders is too much like what I’ve been conditioned to do as a slave.”

Fenris snarled as he leaned up to be face to face with Sebastian. “You being there was too damned convenient. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, I saw the way you paled when he tilted his head just so to show off his scars. If you were truly just lucky enough to find him afterward, he.would.not.act.like.that.” the elf punctuated each word with a slam of his fists on the wall. “One chance to tell me the Maker’s truth, or I will rip your heart out and send it to the Grand Cleric.”

To his credit, Sebastian did not flinch or turn away, his impossibly blue gaze never wavering as he held Fenris’ gaze. “I did not harm him, upon my life,” he said quietly. “Arden was hurt by Templars, as I said. But it wasn’t a random attack.” He swallowed hard. “He was at the Gallows.”

“Why was he at the Gallows? WHY?” Fenris raged at him, his temper barely in check as he tried to calm himself and not do harm that would render him unable to get answers from the prince.

“To do penance,” replied Sebastian softly.

“For what? What in the Void does he have to do penance for Sebastian? So help me if you were there and didn’t aid him I am going to murder you in front of him, no …” Fenris paused and smiled ferally. “You will answer to him, and me, and Anders. Last chance, because I can guarantee you will not leave the estate alive once he hears of what you were party to.” 

Sebastian closed his eyes with a look of resignation. “He came to me late in the evening. Said he had wronged Anders and wanted to do penance. But no penance I would set for him would satisfy him. He said he had to understand for himself just what Anders had suffered in the Circle. I tried to dissuade him, but he was adamant. So I took him to the Gallows. And... I gave him....” His breath hitched in a sob and he dropped his face into his hands. “Maker forgive me, I handed him to Alrik.” He began to weep, softly.

HIs words made Fenris’ brands flare to life in the dim storeroom, his voice was a harsh whisper as he spoke, unsure if he would let Sebastian live long enough to get to the Hawke estate.

“Y...you gave him to Alrik? The same one that showed that he doesn’t see mages as people? The same one that wrote to Val Royeux to ask permission to enact his Tranquil Solution? You let him touch Arden, sweet, gentle Arden who won’t even hurt an insect if he can help it?” Fenris backed away and paced in a short circle as he tried to order his thoughts. 

“And you did nothing? You let them hurt my Arden? You stood there and let them use him? How? How could you do that Sebastian? He avenged your family, has helped you and you repay him like this?” Fenris screamed at the noble, his hands shook as he tried to retain enough calm to speak.

Sebastian crumpled to his knees, sobbing brokenly. “I didn’t know!” he gasped. “I never dreamed how they would brutalise him! If I had known -” He glanced up at Fenris, naked agony on his fine features, the blue eyes red-rimmed and sore. “I swear to you Fenris I would never have let him go if I had known! But Alrik wasn’t alone. There were two other Templars, and they struck me down when I tried to intervene.” He stared up at the elf, clearly not expecting to be believed. He didn’t think Andraste Herself could have persuaded Fenris of his innocence at that point.

Fenris snarled at him and continued to pace. “Right, I sincerely doubt a templar wouldn’t have been swayed by a brother of the Chantry if you’d told them to stop. You had no injuries when you brought him home. Try again, and make it a better tale.”

“I did,” replied Sebastian quietly. He reached up and tilted his head to the left, brushing his auburn hair away as he turned his face slightly toward the ground. “I still bear a scar. One of them struck me with the hilt of his sword.” He gestured towards a point just behind his right ear.

“Then why didn’t you mention it or seek healing from Anders later? That scar could have come from anything since Arden was assaulted. Try again, my patience is nearly gone Vael.” Fenris growled as he dragged Sebastian upright on his knees and let his fist glow blue.

“Call it my own penance,” whispered Sebastian. He let his hands fall to his sides as he stared into Fenris’ eyes. “Kill me if you must and have done with it, but I have told you only the Maker’s own truth, Fenris.”

Fenris let the haze of blue around his hand taper off and he shoved Sebastian away from him in disgust. “I hate you, I hate you so much for what you did. You will answer to all of us for your inaction, and what was done to him. Off your knees, walk ahead of me to the estate and pray to your Maker that Arden has mercy in his heart to make up for the lack in mine.” 

Sebastian caught himself before he could fall then slowly pushed himself to his knees and nodded. Head lowered, he turned and headed towards the door. He was silent as they walked, heedless of the stares and whispers that followed in their wake as the residents of Hightown observed their passage, dogging their footsteps almost all the way back to the estate.

Fenris shoved Sebastian ahead of him and put him into a chair in the downstairs office. “Move and I will track you down and kill you slowly, no matter what it costs me. I’ll be back.” 

Sebastian stayed where he had fallen and kept his gaze on the ground. “I will not move,” he replied quietly.

Fenris said nothing as he left and sought out Arden. Luckily for him, the Champion was in his study and Anders was not to be found. He didn’t want to upset his lovers but what was done was done and he had to see it through. The elf shut and locked the door behind him before he called Arden’s attention.

“I need to speak with you.”

Arden had glanced up as Fenris entered, his eyes widening slightly as the warrior locked the door. He set aside his quill and closed the book he had been writing in.

“What is it, Fenris?” he said quietly. “What’s happened?”

“Sebastian, I literally ran into him and had a little chat about how he’s been acting around you. He confessed everything and I want him to face us for what he’s done. Barring that I will let him go for now until I have a better chance to exact my vengeance. The only reason he’s still breathing is because too many people saw me leave the Market in his company.” Fenris said, his voice too calm and serene for what he felt as he stared at Arden.

The colour drained from Arden’s face until he looked almost as white as the paper he had been writing on. “No....” he breathed. “Maker, no, Fenris!” He shoved his chair back from the desk and stood, clutching the edge of the desk as he staggered slightly. “Anders mustn’t know. Do you hear me? You mustn’t tell Anders!”

Fenris arched an eyebrow but didn’t yell as he normally would have. Instead he spoke quietly, his veneer of calm held steady as he saw how his words affected his lover. “If that is your final word on the matter Arden, I will see him out and not speak of it. I would not harm you further, but know that one day Sebastian will pay for his negligence and his inaction. Even if you never hear of it besides word of his sudden departure from the city.” he looked at Arden with cold, killer’s eyes, his heart resolute that the noble would pay, one day even if Arden spared him from what he thought the man deserved.

Arden fell rather than sat back in his chair and lowered his head to his hands with a desperate moan. “Why?” he whispered. “Why did you have to do this? Maker, you were never supposed to know. No-one was. Anders must never know, it would destroy him, don’t you see?” He stared up at Fenris, his eyes dark and haunted. 

“You have made it clear Arden, I will not distress you further with this. I’ll remove him from the house and not speak of it further. You have my word as your lover, if you will take it.” Fenris said as he waited to be dismissed.

Arden nodded, ashen-faced and shaking as he stared at the elf. “Just don’t... hurt him. Not now. Not here. Not for my sake.... please. I beg you.”

Fenris came around and held Arden close as he whispered his agreement. “I beg your forgiveness, I did not wish to do this to you. But ...I do not wish to see his inaction to go unpunished. I will not shed blood or harm him while he is here, you have my word. I will return once I have escorted him off the property.” 

Arden nodded, hunching in on himself. “Go then,” he whispered brokenly.

“I am sorry beloved.” Fenris gave him a kiss to the crown of his head and returned to the room where Sebastian remained in exactly the same pose he’d been left in. 

Sebastian lifted his head but did not move.

“You are far too lucky for your own good. Arden will not see you harmed and by extension not Anders. Get out of here, but know the clock is ticking Vael. You are a dead man walking as far as I am concerned. If I even think you will do harm to the men I love, I will end you no matter the cost to myself. Now get out and never let me see you again.” Fenris held the door open and glowered at the prince.

“I swear I would never raise a hand to either Arden or Anders, no matter the provocation,” said Sebastian as he stood. He straightened, and with a last dignified nod to the elven warrior he turned and left the Hawke estate.

Fenris shut the door and returned to Arden’s side, laid his head on the mage’s thigh and whispered apologies for what he’d done. Arden had not moved from his chair and sat much as Fenris had left him, his slender arms wrapped around his body, hunched over, his long hair hiding his face. As Fenris murmured his apology, the blond mage lowered a hand to rest upon Fenris’ shoulder as if in silent benediction.

“I’m sorry Arden, I did not wish to distress you so much. But I cannot allow...he-”

Arden laid a finger upon his lips to silence him.

“What’s done is done, and none of us can undo it now,” the mage replied in a low voice, rough and hoarse from tears.

“Regardless, I am sorry beloved. I do not always think when my emotions flare as they do. How may I make this transgression up to you?” Fenris said, his eyes closed and his own tears trailing down his face as he sat curled against his lover. He could feel Arden’s tears falling silently into his hair as the mage hunched over him, stroking his hair as he cried voicelessly.

He stood and embraced Arden to his chest, and spoke quietly to his lover, words that meant little to nothing but sounded soothing to him. Arden kept his head bowed as he clung to the elf, still weeping silently, his whole body trembling.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Arden. Please forgive me beloved.” Fenris said quietly.

Arden tried to speak but all that would come out was ragged gasping, his chest and throat too tight for words. He bit his lip and cried out, a brief, hoarse scream of pain that was all he could manage to voice.

“Shhh, I’m sorry, I’m so damned sorry. Please Arden, please. I’m sorry.” Fenris said in a panic. His heart hurt to hear such raw agony from his lover and it made more tears flow from him as he held the apostate close to him.

There was the sound of footsteps running up the stairs and then a body slammed into the locked door. From the other side, they could hear Anders’ startled voice. “Arden? Arden! What’s wrong! Why is the door locked? Arden!”

Fenris unlocked the door and let Anders in. “I’m sorry, I...I hurt him with something I said, and we were talking. I locked the door. I need to go for a while.” 

Anders took the shaking mage from Fenris’ arms and gathered him into his own protective embrace and stared down at the mess Arden was in with dismay. “Maker, what on earth could you say to put him in this state?” he exclaimed as he glanced up at the elf. “Fenris - Maker, you too - what on earth happened in here?”

The elf shook his head and turned to go. “I promised I would speak no more of it, so I would not further distress him. Take care of Arden, I’ll be back...later.” he rasped before he bolted down the stairs and out towards his old home. No one had moved in after he moved in with the Champion.

Fenris let himself in and headed up to the room that was his. the bed was in decent enough shape, so he curled up on top of the covers and let his own grief out. 

Anders had called out futilely to Fenris as he fled, his shouts ignored. He sighed as the front door slammed shut, then stared down at Arden, who slumped against him, shivering. He swept the unprotesting mage up in his arms and carried him through to the bedroom. Arden made no sound as Anders laid him gently on the bed. The healer gently brushed the white-streaked gold hair out of Arden’s eyes and called his name, but the Champion did not respond, his amber eyes staring dully into space.

Anders shook his head. “What in the Void did you say, Fenris?” he muttered to himself. He undressed Arden, who was limp and unresisting. Settling him into the bed, he sat upon the edge and laid his hands over Arden’s eyes, gently brushing them closed, then with a murmured incantation he gently laid a sleep spell on the exhausted man. Then he sat back and watched Arden’s sleeping face, shaking his head in bewilderment.

He had rarely seen Arden in this state. The day his mother Leandra had died. The fugue state that had settled over him after Invictus had returned to his own world. The state he had been in after the Templar assault. He felt as helpless now as he had then; and he didn’t even know what the cause of this pain was.

Had Fenris... left them? He could think of nothing else the elf could say that could destroy Arden so thoroughly than that. 

He felt torn; he knew he should go after Fenris, and yet Arden needed him. The healer within him won out, and he sat in silent vigil, wondering how broken Arden would be when he finally woke up.

“What did you do, Fenris?” he whispered to himself.

**

Fenris fell into a fitful sleep for a few hours and awoke to a dark sky and a few stars winking into existence through the hole in the roof. He felt terrible and wasn’t sure what Arden might have told Anders or what he could say that would not betray his promise to his lover. 

He finally gathered up the nerve to return home, his footsteps heavy as he trudged upstairs and to their room. He found Arden asleep in their bed, and Anders sound asleep in the overstuffed chair by the window. Instead of disturbing either man, he opted for the guest room but left the door open so they would realize someone was there come sunup.

The elf washed up briefly then fell into the bed with a muffled sob of anger at himself for being so thoughtless. His eyes finally slid closed but his rest was fraught with nightmares that starred himself, Anders, Arden, templars and slavers until he awoke with a plea for mercy that tapered off when he sat up. 

Anders was regarding him from the foot of his bed, his face in shadow. “Whose mercy are you begging for?” he asked quietly.

“Dan...Danarius’. It was a terrible dream, I was a slave again and he’d given me to the guards to teach me to behave.” Fenris said as he looked down and shuddered in remembrance of the memory.

“Ah.” Anders nodded. He understood nightmares all too well. He turned slightly and leaned against the upright post of the bed. He stared off to the side. “So. I’ve been trying to think what on earth you could say to Arden that would have reduced him to the kind of state he was in after Leandra died.” His amber eyes glittered in the dark as he glanced at the elf. “Are you... leaving us?” His voice sounded thick and uncertain.

“What?” Fenris said in surprise. “No, I am not leaving unless Arden tells me that he is done with me.” the elf pulled the bedding up to his chest as if it would soften the blow of what he was going to say.

“I...I was stupid and told him of my thoughts about Sebastian’s treachery. It sent him into a state, and I apologized but it was too late. I think he may have recalled what happened after the templars… hurt him.” 

Anders stepped around the bed, a shaft of moonlight falling across his face and glistening off the tears that ran down his face as he moved closer. “Go on,” he said quietly.

“No, I’ve said too much as it is.” Fenris scooted forward to wipe Anders’ tears away. “I shouldn’t have said anything, it was stupid of me. Without proof it was careless talk that hurt him. I’ve promised to drop it and I will beg his forgiveness for what I said. I even...I let it slip that I knew more of his injuries than you thought I knew.”

Anders stood perfectly still and closed his eyes. “You knew.”

“I was used Anders, used and mistreated in the Imperium. He...moved the same way I did, after...after I’d been passed around. Beaten, used. I know you didn’t want me to know but I couldn’t stop thinking about it after his remarks earlier. I was stupid and didn't think before I spoke and now he’s hurting.” Fenris closed his eyes and waited for Anders to lose his temper, or worse with him.

Anders wiped his face with his sleeve and inhaled raggedly before lowering his arm and opening his eyes to stare at Fenris.

“If you knew, then you must have realised what it would do to him to have all that brought back again,” he said quietly. “He had his reasons for not telling us, and it was as much to protect himself as us. You stripped away that illusion. Tell me, how do you feel when you wake up from a nightmare about Danarius? Raw? Open? Vulnerable?” His eyes glittered. “Wounded again?”

Fenris nodded in agreement and bowed his head further. “I said I didn’t think, it had become and argument and I failed to curb my tongue. I am sorry, so fucking sorry Anders. Nothing will change my words, they cannot be unsaid. If Arden would send me away, so be it. I do not deserve his affection when I cannot care for him as I should.” he looked up at Anders, his eyes brimming again as he spoke. “Tell me to leave then, you would both be happier without me.”

“No.” Anders’ voice shook with barely contained anger. “Oh no. I will not let you run away yet again. That’s all you do, isn’t it? Run away, over, and over, and over again.” He grinned savagely. “You think I don’t recognise when someone else is doing it? I’ve been running away my whole damned life Fenris, you’re a bloody amateur compared to me.” 

He suddenly lunged at the elf, pinning him down to the bed, his hands gripping tightly to Fenris’ shoulders with his face bare inches from the warrior’s. “I am damned if I am going to let you run away this time,” he growled. “Do you hear me? You don’t get out of it that easy. You’re bloody well going to stay and face the consequences of what you’ve done. You leave this house and I swear I will hunt you down and drag you back myself.”

Fenris didn’t fight back, he turned his head and closed his eyes. “Yes, ser.” he whispered roughly as he waited for the mage’s tirade to continue.

Anders snatched his hands away as though burned. “What did you call me?” he whispered.

“Ser.” Fenris replied woodenly as he gazed at the wall across from the bed and swallowed. He had no fight in him, not when Anders was one hundred percent right.

“I’m not one of your damned magisters,” breathed Anders as he backed away. “Don’t you dare ever call me that again.” He clutched at the bedpost as he stared at the elf. “Damn you, look at yourself. Have you no self-respect? You’re still a slave, Fenris. When all’s said and done, you’re just looking for another master. Well it won’t be me. I can’t even master myself.” He backed away until he reached the door.

Fenris felt a hint of anger but he didn’t care enough to respond to what Anders had said. He’d hit home with his words, and the truth burned him surely as if the mage had lit arcane fire to him instead of pinning him with his hands. The elven fighter didn’t move, didn’t look in the direction he’d heard Anders move. There was no point to it as long as he was pummeled with the truth he didn’t want to believe.

“Look at me. You bloody coward. You’re worse than I am.”

Fenris turned his gaze towards Anders and shrugged. If he spoke, he knew he’d make their situation into something that might force someone’s hand to action, one he’d regret.

Anders shook his head in disgust. “I’m going to bed,” he growled. “Arden should asleep for another eight hours at least. Tomorrow you can start trying to fix this mess you’ve made. I’ve done what I can but this is your fault and I’m damned if I’m going to clean up after you.”

He turned away, his shoulders slumping as he returned to the main bedroom. He glanced at Arden, relieved to see he still slept peacefully, then dropped back into the chair by the window with a low groan. Turning his face away from the bright moonlight, he waited for sleep to claim him again.

Fenris curled back under the covers, pulled a pillow over his head to muffle the sobbing that had started the moment the door had shut behind the mage. He didn’t sleep well, and what little rest he got was plagued by a replay of the fight with Anders, but with different results each time. Once daylight broke, Fenris gave up on sleeping but remained in the room, unable to face the day.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words said in anger hurt more than a blade, Anders spends more time with Hal and neither Fenris is having a good day. Fade tripping should only be done by responsible adults.

Fenris finally left the guest bedroom due to hunger rather than any desire to see Anders or Arden. He didn’t know what he’d say or do if the blond apostate continued to cut him with truths that he’d rather not face. 

He entered the dining room to find Anders at the table but he didn’t turn around, instead he got a plate and sat on the other side, his food an excuse not to speak yet.

Anders didn’t look up, merely continued to push his food around his plate with his fork, not eating. After the silence between them had stretched into something almost unbearably uncomfortable, he finally spoke, his voice low and tired.

“Arden is still sleeping. I laid another sleep spell on him. There’s a potion I need to brew for him; it won’t fix what you’ve done but it may make it easier for him to come to terms with it. Cushion things a little. I just hope I have enough of the right ingredients here since the clinic and most of my supplies were trashed. I may need you to go fetch certain ingredients for me.” 

“I’m not a dog, I do not go fetch for anyone.” Fenris snarled before he went to scrape the leavings from his plate and rinse it. “You said you are not my master, do not speak to me as if you are.”

Anders lifted his head slowly and fixed Fenris with a glare. “I said you would fix what you have done to him, and I swear I will hold you to it. If there is a single scrap of honour left in your worthless carcass then you will do as I _ask_. Arden needs this potion. I dare not leave him whilst he is in this state. If you will not aid him - or me - then all your words are worthless as the wind and as about much use to either him or me.” There was little heat in his words; he was too tired to really fight.

“Then ask me, do not tell me fetch like a magister would.” Fenris went over and got into Anders face, his eyes glittered with anger and hurt. “You got your digs in last night, you wounded me in turn. Do not make it worse with a poor choice of words this morning. I will aid Arden because it is what is right but if you threaten me again, I will remind you how dangerous I can be when provoked.” 

Anders merely looked at Fenris, his own eyes dark with pain and a world of hurt, dark hollows of exhaustion beneath his eyes. “Will you destroy me too, love?” he asked softly.

Fenris didn’t twitch, didn’t move except for the muscle twitching in his jaw as he spoke through clenched teeth. “You act as if I enjoyed it, that I would not try to remedy my error. I cannot speak with Arden as I wished, and your attitude towards me is not helping. You got your licks in Anders, you beat me with your words as sure as if you’d raised a hand against me. I do not ...I cannot have you speak to me like this, not now. Especially after what you said yesterday. Write a list and _ask_ me, and I will buy what is needed. But never, ever tell me to fetch you something again.”

Anders slumped back against his chair, never lowering his eyes from Fenris’ glare. “I spoke from fear,” he said quietly. “I regret the things I said. I should not have said those things to you. I am sorry, more sorry than I can say... and I am terrified for Arden. I’m scared that whatever I do won’t be enough.”

“What’s said is said, and right now, sorry isn’t much consolation. Write your list, I will return for it after I have dressed properly for the day. Assuming, I am allowed to leave the house now?” Fenris said as he backed away from Anders, his voice low and rough.

Anders fell forward and dropped his head into his hands, all his earlier anger burnt up and gone leaving him feeling wretched, empty and helpless. “Of course,” he murmured, voice thick as he tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“Thank you _ser_ ” Fenris hissed as he passed by on his way to gather his things; Anders flinched as though struck. The elf paid him no mind, but he made sure to remain silent as he put on his armor and carried his scabbard rather than rattling it around in their room. He made sure he had plenty of coin for whatever was needed and returned to the dining room for the list of reagents. He stood there and waited for the parchment, his posture stiff.

Anders was hunched over a piece of parchment, his quill scratching the only sound above his ragged breathing which hitched every so often. He lay the quill down and slid the parchment away from him toward the elf, not looking up.

“Is there a particular vendor I should seek out or will one of the sellers have all of these things?” Fenris said quietly as he looked over the list.

“There’s an elven woman in the far corner of the market nearest the gate to Lowtown. She should have most of them. I trust her wares; they’re generally pretty fresh. Tell her it’s for Anders and she’ll make sure you have what you need.” Anders’ voice was colourless, all fight gone out of him. He kept his eyes on the table.

“I have fifteen sovereigns with me, will that be sufficient for the items?” Fenris said, his voice brittle as he spoke. Anders merely nodded.

The elf put the list into one of the pouches on his belt and headed toward the foyer, his scabbard rattling as it settled on his back. He knew he’d been cruel, but he didn’t have it in him to care. He hoped getting out of the house and away from them would help clear his head and improve his mood.

Anders sat slumped in his chair after Fenris had gone. He didn’t hear the soft slippered footsteps of the Tranquil mage as Hal approached from behind.

“I am familiar with the potion in question. I cannot perform the spellcasting requirements, but I can begin the preparation of the herbs and brewing,” said Hal quietly.

Anders jumped and stared around wildly, then exhaled as he glanced at Hal. “That... would be a help,” he nodded slowly. “Fenris should be able to get all the herbs we need.” He sighed and scrubbed at his face with his hands wearily. “Where have you been lurking?” he asked.

“The dwarf Bodahn showed me to a servant’s room and I have slept there.”

“Did he feed you?” asked Anders, glancing up again.

“I have not yet eaten,” demurred Hal.

Anders groaned. “You’re allowed to serve yourself, Hal.” He gestured to the nearly untouched breakfast buffet upon the side counter. “Take as much as you require and eat. I will not have you starve.”

Hal inclined his head in acquiescence and moved to fill a plate for himself.

“Want some tea?” asked Anders without thinking, then paused. Hal merely glanced back and inclined his head. “Tea would be acceptable.”

They were sat in a silence that was uncomfortable on Anders’ part but completely indifferent upon Hal’s when Fenris returned.

Fenris put his sword on the stand and handed the satchel to Anders and passed him a note from the vendor. She was happy to ensure that he had the freshest possible reagents and included a missive as well. 

“Is there anything else you require for this potion?” he said with a glance to Hal, unsure if the Tranquil even cared if he was present or not.

Anders glanced over the missive. “Thank you for this, Fenris,” he said quietly. “I think I have everything I need now. Hal will help. I’m about as rested as I’m likely to be so I shouldn’t need any lyrium, but I still have a couple of vials if need be.” He glanced up, his eyes uncertain. “Would you... sit with Arden whilst we work? Please? He’s unlikely to wake but I.... I just don’t want him to be alone. Please?”

“Are you sure I should be the first thing he sees upon awakening? I am the cause of his hurt after all.” Fenris said, his voice devoid of emotion as he looked at Anders with as much interest as he would a random insect.

The look was not lost on Anders, who swallowed hard then slowly nodded. “One of us should be there. I can’t be in two places at once. But if he seems too distressed, I’ll be in the kitchen.” He pushed himself to his feet and glanced at Hal. “Best we get started as soon as possible. Are you... finished?”

Hal rose smoothly to his feet. “I am sated,” he replied serenely.

Fenris dipped his head and spoke quietly, his slave face firmly on as he addressed his lover. “I will sit with Arden then, if the sight of me upsets him I will come to you.” 

Anders nodded unhappily. “Thank you, love,” he said quietly, wondering if the endearment even applied any more. His chest ached as he turned away and picked up the satchel.

_Why does this hurt so much? It doesn’t make sense._

_Love never does._

_Why does he keep hurting us like this? Can’t he see what it is doing to us?_

_Of course he does. That doesn’t mean he can help it. He’s hurting too. I spoke in haste; I should never have said those things to him._

_They were all true._

_Doesn’t make it right._

_This is a distraction. There are people who need me. I have to keep my head clear._

_It’s not that easy._

Anders shook his head as he made his way into the kitchen. It was getting harder and harder to tell which thoughts were his own, which came from Justice these days. The boundaries were becoming too blurred, which terrified him. Was Justice becoming subsumed within him - or was he being engulfed by Justice?

Perhaps he should take comfort that he was still able to even ask himself the question. He feared the day was rapidly approaching when he would no longer even question it anymore. 

He set the satchel on the kitchen table and pulled out bundles of herbs and packets of reagents. He had two potions he needed to craft from scratch before he could brew the one to help Arden.

Hal set to work to grind herbs, prepare and brew the various tisanes and decoctions Anders needed to blend and augment for the potions he needed. They fell into a pattern of working, Anders finding that Hal understood and already knew the recipes he required and was able to prepare them with minimal supervision from the mage, freeing Anders to concentrate on the magically-demanding parts of the crafting. 

It had been long years since last Anders had worked in a Circle infirmary staffed with the Tranquil. He had forgotten how much smoother the work went with a skilled pair of hands to assist; he began to forget Hal was Tranquil, immersed in the work as they were. He lost track of time, working through lunch, ignoring his pangs of hunger until Hal lightly touched his hand and drew his attention to the plate of bread, cheese and cold meats at his elbow. He ate distractedly, then returned to imbuing the dark green potion with mana before passing it to his Tranquil assistant who poured the viscous liquid into a small dark glass bottle, labelling it neatly before lifting the other potion off the fire and setting it upon a metal trivet to protect the wooden table from the heat of the pot.

Anders cooled the amber potion with an ice spell then cast healing into it, augmenting the reagent’s natural properties, and stopped when it reached a particular dark shade of gold. Nodding to Hal, he let his hands fall and drew a tired breath.

The Tranquil mage unstoppered a vial of lyrium without being asked and silently pressed it into Anders’ hand; the blond apostate knocked it back without a second thought. Hal decanted the amber potion into another bottle, labelled it, then set both it and the dark green potion to one side before inspecting the third potion that was brewing over the fire. He sniffed the steam critically then nodded, satisfied the herbs had steeped to the required strength and lifted the pot clear of the flames. Removing the other pan from the trivet in front of Anders, he replaced it with the hot brew then emptied the dregs out of the cool pan into the midden bucket before scrubbing out the empty pan in the sink.

Anders sat back as he finished augmenting the last potion, satisfied with the colour and scent of the pale green liquid. “It’s done,” he said quietly, breaking the silence for the first time since they had started work. Hal nodded and removed the pot from the trivet, filtering the potion into a flask which he labelled before turning to clean up. He brought Anders a mug of hot, sweet tea then returned to washing up as Anders sipped it slowly.

“Were you a healer before the Rite?” asked Anders suddenly, glancing at Hal.

“Yes,” replied the Tranquil man. Anders nodded.

“Why were you made Tranquil?”

“To set an example,” replied Hal diffidently. “I was not obedient. Now I serve as I was meant to.”

"Can I ask... when did they do it? How old were you? You said you're only seventeen - you can't have been Harrowed yet...." said Anders slowly.

"Oh, yes," replied Hal unconcernedly. "I was made Tranquil a week after my Harrowing."

" _What??_ " exclaimed Anders as he reeled with the shock. "But that- that's illegal! Maker, that's... that's so wrong!" He looked away, fighting to quell the angry stirrings of Justice inside. After a few minutes, when he was certain he had himself under control again, he turned back to Hal. “Would you... change? If you could?” he asked slowly. Hal turned to face him, a faint look of perplexion on his otherwise smooth features.

“I do not understand the question,” he said. “The Rite of Tranquility is irreversible; I cannot be other than what I am.”

“But what if you could?” persisted Anders. “What if there were a way to undo it?”

Hal blinked, nonplussed. “There is none.”

“But what if there _were_?” insisted Anders as he got up and came closer. “Would you choose to stay Tranquil, or would you take the chance to be as you were again? A healer, useful, able to help others with the gifts you were born with?”

Hal blinked and appeared to consider the question. “I... do not know,” he confessed.

Anders stared into the amber eyes which appeared troubled. “What if I told you I think I know a way to undo what was done to you?” he breathed.

Hal returned his gaze, his face betraying an uncertainty. “I...am made to obey...” he said slowly. “To submit to what my masters feel is best for me.”

“Would you trust me?” asked Anders quietly.

“That decision is not mine to make. You must do as you feel is best,” replied Hal softly.

Anders groaned and bowed his head. He froze as he felt a cool hand gently brush his cheek, and then he jerked his head up, startled.

Hal regarded him with the serene empty gaze of the Tranquil even as he lightly stroked a stray loose lock of blond hair back out of Anders’ eyes.

“I do not think you would do anything to harm me,” said Hal. Then he turned away.

Anders backed away from Hal, shaken by the exchange. He picked up the pale green potion then headed upstairs to the bedroom, mind whirling as he went over in his mind the whole conversation, his thoughts drawn back over and over to the feel of the Tranquil mage’s hand upon his face as Hal had brushed back his hair.

He was distracted by his own confused thoughts as he entered the bedroom, not noticing Fenris at first as he made his way over to the bed.

Fenris noticed his entry but said nothing, he left his gaze fixed on Arden as he pondered what to say when the other man awoke.

Anders carefully sat down on the edge of the bed next to the sleeping man, putting the flask down on the bedside table before reaching for Arden’s wrist as he laid his other hand gently on the unconscious man’s forehead. Gently he partially lifted the sleeping spell, just enough for Arden’s eyelids to flicker as the Champion murmured something indistinct. 

Anders shifted around slightly to slide an arm around Arden’s shoulders and lift him up until the mage was resting with his back against Anders’ chest, his head tilted back against Anders’ arm. His mouth fell open, and carefully Anders trickled a third of the flask’s contents past the pale lips, a little at a time, Arden swallowing each mouthful almost reflexively. His eyes fluttered open as Anders set the flask down.

“What... where am I?” asked Arden, his eyes full of confusion as he blinked up at the ceiling.

“At home love,” said Anders gently. “In our room.”

“Have I been ill?” asked the blond mage, bewildered, as his eyes wandered around the room. “Fenris? Why are you sitting over there?” He tried to sit up, dizzy and disoriented. Anders’ glance flicked over to the elf.

“I was sitting with you for a while, do you ...remember yesterday evening?” he said miserably.

Anders helped Arden to sit up as Arden pressed a hand to his forehead and frowned. “I feel like I’ve been asleep for a month,” he said slowly. “I had the strangest dreams....” he glanced up at Fenris. “Did we... argue?” he asked hesitantly. “I remember - or was I dreaming? Something... something hurt, but....”

“We did, and I left while Anders...took care of you. If you are awake enough to speak, I will leave you both alone. I have no desire to distress you further Arden.” Fenris refused to look up at the mage, his expression pained.

Arden stared at the elf, his look of confusion slowly shifting to a faint frown. “No... I... I don’t want you to go,” he said slowly. “There was something....” A flash of something crossed his face as his eyes suddenly focussed fully on Fenris. “Sebastian. You spoke to Sebastian.”

He simply nodded and reiterated the story he told Anders in the hopes it would not cause the same reaction. Once he was done he stood to go, his heart hurt and he couldn’t face either man.

“So you both know,” said Arden quietly. “I should... I should feel....” He broke off and stared at Anders. “Why don’t I feel anything? It’s like... I know I should feel pain, something... but it’s like I’m looking at it through a pane of glass.”

“I gave you something to help numb the pain a little until you have recovered from the shock, love,” replied Anders quietly. “It won’t fix things, but maybe it’ll help whilst we deal with it.”

Arden looked confused, but nodded slowly before glancing back to Fenris. “Don’t leave please,” he asked gently. He held out his hand towards the elf.

“I have harmed you with careless words Arden, I should not force my presence upon you further today. Perhaps later I will have it in me to talk to you. I’m sorry.” Fenris said, his gaze on the floor as he remained stock still. He wanted to stay, to throw himself into Arden’s embrace and beg forgiveness, but he was still hurting from Anders’ words.

“Don’t leave me,” whispered Arden. “Please. Come here. I need you. Both of you.”

Fenris sat down on the chair again and hid his face in his hands so they would not see him crumble.

Arden made a faint noise of distress and struggled to rise. Anders pulled the covers loose so he could get up, then helped him to stand.

Arden made his way around the bed, waving Anders back when he made to follow. He stumbled over to the chair and dropped to his knees by Fenris’ feet, laying his head upon his knees and reaching for his hands. “I forgive you love,” he said quietly. “Don’t leave me.”

“Get off your knees Arden Hawke. I will not have you kneel to me.” Fenris said as he leaned back folded his arms. He was close to breaking again and he just wanted to go, to not have Arden begging his forgiveness. “You have done nothing that requires forgiveness, it is I that has wronged you. If you wish me gone, I will understand.”

“No, you don’t,” argued Arden as he stared up at Fenris. “I don’t wish you gone. I need you here with me, don’t you understand? I forgive you, love. I _forgive you!!_ ” He stared up at the elf, his face pale and distraught. “Please hold me,” he begged quietly. “I can’t bear it when you hold yourself apart from me like this. Whatever was said, we can find a way through this. Only please, don’t go.”

“Arden, don’t please. I...I can’t take this right now.” Fenris said, his voice rough and his gaze averted even as tears fell, hot and unwanted.

“Just hold him, damn you,” whispered Anders, his own voice rough with tears. “Can’t you even do that much for him?”

That made his head snap up and Fenris’ gaze narrow in rage. “Don’t Anders...just fucking don’t say another Maker damned word to me right now.” the elf leaned down and pulled Arden to his feet, his arms going around the thin waist and his head against Arden’s stomach. Arden flung his slender arms around his elf and bent over him, trembling as he held back his own tears. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Please. Don’t ever leave me.”

“As you wish Arden. I’m sorry for distressing you.” Fenris replied, his voice muffled against Arden’s body.

After long moments like that, Arden’s knees began to give way, and he curled himself into the elf’s lap, wrapping his arms around the elf’s neck as he buried his face against Fenris’ shoulder. 

Anders leaned back against the headboard of the bed, letting his head drop back to rest against the hard wood, staring blindly up at the bed canopy. He had no idea where he and Fenris now stood or how they could possibly move on from this point, but at least the elf had responded to Arden. If the relationship between the Champion and the elf could be salvaged, he would take that as some small victory.

Fenris didn’t speak, he just held Arden in his arms and tried to get his feelings in order. He glanced at Anders but didn’t have anything to say. He thought their relationship was broken, if not for good, for the foreseeable future.

After a while, Arden’s body relaxed in Fenris’ embrace, his arms growing lax around the elf’s neck as his breathing slowed and became even, the mage drifting into a light doze. Anders blinked and lifted his head, glancing over at Fenris, his gaze not quite meeting the elven warrior’s. He sat still, unwilling to break the silence.

Fenris sighed and held Arden closer so he wouldn’t fall off his lap. He glanced at Anders again, his gaze neutral and careful. The blond apostate dropped his gaze to the floor, aware of the scrutiny.

While the elf wanted to speak, he didn’t want to risk waking Arden again, not from a natural doze. He cleared his throat and looked to Anders again, unsure what to say that would not wake his lover or cause him further anguish.

Anders glanced warily up at him from behind a curtain of loose blond hair. He looked almost as though he expected some physical blow, his body tensed; a posture Fenris recognised all too well.

Fenris curbed the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he nudged Arden gently. “My legs are falling asleep, get back in bed I make a terrible pillow.” 

Arden mumbled something and nuzzled his face against the side of Fenris’ neck.

“Arden, please get up, I really can’t feel my legs anymore.” Fenris said, a tad bit louder.

Arden lifted his head drowsily. “Come to bed with me?” he murmured.

“In a bit, I need to eat something before I do that. My breakfast didn’t sit well with me. I won't be long.”

Anders got up and hesitantly approached. “I can lift him back into bed,” he said quietly, his voice subdued, his eyes on the floor.

Fenris didn’t snap by some force of will and nodded for Anders to lift Arden off his lap. He hissed at the feeling coming back into his legs suddenly. Anders paused and glanced back down at the elf with a worried look and opened his mouth as if to speak, then turned away and gently carried Arden back to the bed, settling him against the pillows.

Once Arden was settled, Fenris tilted his head towards the door and headed back to the guest room. He didn’t sit on the bed but stood in the middle of the room, his gaze hard again as he looked at the apostate. Anders raised his head and returned the elf’s stare with an effort of will.

“Well, you looked as if you had something to say earlier besides berating me. So out with it.” Fenris said quietly, too calm for the moment but it was that or scream and yell as if he had lost all patience with everyone.

“You... your legs hurt, I just wanted....” He lowered his head. “I still care about you,” he said quietly. “Maybe I have no right to, after the things I said. But I do. I don’t know what to say, how to fix what’s broken between us. Whether it even _can_ be fixed.” He lifted his head slowly. “Whatever you want to say... say it. I deserve anything you say to me. Hit me, if it helps. I’m sorry. I had no right to say any of that to you. If I could take it back, I would, but I can’t.” He took a hesitant step toward the elf.

“I will not hit you, what the Void is wrong with you? Why would you suggest that to me?” Fenris snarled as he stood his ground, despite the wild urge to flee.

“Because the way you’re looking at me right now makes me think you want to,” said Anders quietly. “And Maker knows I would deserve it.”

“I am not a mindless beast, I ...I might want to, but I know you have had more than your share of people hitting you instead of dealing with problems like normal people. What do you think can even be done about what you said? Tell me Anders?” Fenris growled, his heart pounded as he awaited the mages answer.

“And maybe sometimes I deserved that too,” said Anders. He backed away and sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know what can be done. My mouth ran away with me. I don’t know how to fix it. I wish I did. What.... what do you want me to do?”

“The only thing I wish you would do is impossible. You spoke what was in your heart be it from anger or no. It’s said and done. You’re going to have to accept there may be nothing you can do to fix this.” Fenris said, the bitterness gone but cold anger was still present.

Anders wrapped his arms around himself and hunched over, his gaze on the floor. “Then... it’s over?” he asked hopelessly.

“No but I ...it will take some time to deal with what you said. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

Anders’ breath quickened and he gasped raggedly, nodding wretchedly. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his body shuddering as he began to sob almost silently.

“Sorry doesn’t tell me you understand. Are you sorry you hurt me or sorry you let it slip what you think of me after all this time?” Fenris took a few steps forward and folded his arms. “Stand up and stop crying, I’m having a hard enough time as it is.”

Anders got to his feet and bit his lip, forcing down the sobs with a visible effort of will. “Sorry I hurt you,” he gasped. “Sorry I let my anger out on you. Sorry I was so stupid and couldn’t let my own fears go. Sorry I.... Maker, sorry about everything, sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry.” He hung his head, his body wracked with shudders as he fought to control his breathing and get the words out past the pain in his chest and throat. He could feel Justice inside, a mass of confused feelings that didn’t understand why this was important.

“What am I supposed to do with that Anders? You say you are sorry, but when will your anger get the better of you again? Do you think I can forget so easily that you think I am but an empty shell seeking a new master after Danarius? How can you even think that of me? Do you know why I gave in to you? You have never raised your hand against me and ...it sent me back to my past. I am not ...do you think I liked responding that way? Do you think I liked calling you ser? No, I didn’t. But your words showed me what I mean to you, nothing.” Fenris shouted the last, his temper finally snapping.

Anders reeled as though Fenris had physically struck him, even as a flash of blue fire lit his eyes up briefly. He clenched his eyes tight shut. “No,” he gasped, the word half-strangled.

“So you would sic your ...spirit on me?” Fenris said quietly, his brands lighting up in case he had to defend himself.

Anders stood still, his body trembling, hands clenched at his sides and his eyes still closed. “No,” he breathed. “I will not. Won’t... won’t give in....” He bit his lip. “Run. Please,” he gasped.

Fenris refused to run from Anders, instead he walked out, his brands lit and ready as he made his way back to Arden.

Anders fell to his knees with a gasp as he fought down Justice. The spirit was all fury and rage, rising to lash out at the source of Anders’ pain, but the mage would not give in. He had no idea of how long passed as he knelt there, fighting internally for control of his very soul, but he cried out in shock as a hand suddenly grasped his shoulder.

“Get out - go!” he rasped as his eyes opened.

“I will not,” replied Hal as he crouched in front of Anders, eyes widening. “It’s you. I felt it... my eyes opening. What are you?”

“Abomination,” breathed Anders. “Get away from me, you’re not safe.”

Hal shook his head. “I think not,” he replied quietly. He lifted a hand and gently wiped blood away from Anders’ lip where he’d bitten it through in his struggle. “How can I help?”

“You can’t,” breathed Anders. “No-one can. I’m a danger to everyone if he gets loose.”

“He won’t,” replied Hal gently. “You’re winning. Can’t you feel?”

“This time,” groaned Anders as he slumped forward. Hal caught him gently.

“What can I do for you?” he said gently. “I don’t have long, I can feel my mind clouding already. Let me help you.”

Anders stared up at him.

A few minutes later, they stood in a small store room just off the main cellars. Hal pressed the small flask into Anders’ hands. His eyes had returned to the serene blankness of the Tranquil, but his hand still rested comfortingly upon Anders’ shoulder as the mage stared around the small room.

He turned and pressed a small key into Hal’s hand. “Look after Arden. Eat meals at the same time as Fenris and Arden, but remind them if they forget to eat.”

Hal nodded. “I will. How long will you remain in here?”

“Leave me here for a full day and night. Return for me the following morning. Hopefully by then I will have regained full control of myself.”

“And should they ask where you are?”

“Tell them nothing,” whispered Anders.

Hal nodded. Stepping out of the small store room, he turned and locked the door.

Anders lay down upon the blanket in the corner, and sipped magebane.

**

Fenris slipped into bed with Arden silently and curled around the blond mage. “It is just me, go back to sleep.”

Arden turned his head upon the pillow sleepily. “You were gone a while,” he said drowsily. “Where’s Anders? Are you both OK?”

“Not really, but lets not discuss it right now.” Fenris mumbled.

Arden snuggled back against the pillows and pulled Fenris’ arm around his waist. “Is there a storm building?” he murmured. “Feels weird.”

“I do not understand what you mean.” the elf answered. He was wide awake but content to lay with Arden for the time being.

“Can’t you feel it?” asked Arden drowsily. “Something in the air. Heavy... like a storm building. Power but it’s... raw. It makes my skin itch.”

“I feel nothing.” Fenris murmured, the grimace at how true it was hidden by the way he’d curled against his lover.

“Strange,” murmured Arden.”I wonder....” Whatever it was he wondered was lost as he slipped back into sleep.

**

Arden blinked as the light streaming in the window woke him up. Something was wrong. He glanced to his left, reassured to see the sleeping form of Fenris curled up against him. He glanced to his right.

The bed was empty where Anders ought to have been sprawled asleep.

Arden sat up, frowning as the events of yesterday came back to mind. Something was very, very wrong indeed, and Anders’ absence was a part of it.

“Fenris?” he called softly. “Love?”

“Hmm, what?” the elf mumbled.

“It’s late morning. Anders didn’t come to bed. Something’s wrong,” said Arden uneasily.

Fenris sat up and looked around, his eyes guilty as they took in the empty side of the bed. “He had… a problem with Justice when we spoke. I wonder...if he hid himself away until it passed.”

Arden rolled out of bed and crossed to the wardrobe, pulling out his house robe and a pair of dark brown pants. “And it lasted all night?” he said sceptically. “I can’t shake the feeling that something’s happened.”

Fenris rolled out of bed and pulled on his leggings and tunic. “Hal, the Tranquil mage. He cannot lie if we ask him about Anders can he?” he queried softly.

“I don’t think so,” replied Arden. “Why? You think he might know something? Where is he, anyway?”

“The servant’s quarters I believe.” Fenris headed down the steps two at a time, dread in his gut. Arden followed swiftly behind.

They found Hal sitting at a small desk on one of the spare servant’s rooms, his bed neatly made. The red-headed man was silently darning a hole in the sleeve of his outer robe but glanced up as they entered. 

Fenris cleared his throat and smiled at the Tranquil. “Hal, where is Anders? He was not in his bedroom this morning.”

“I cannot say,” replied the other man placidly. His eyes held no guile as he stared up at the elf.

“Hal, I am asking you a direct question, answer me. Where is Anders?” Fenris repeated.

Hal sat perfectly still and closed his eyes. “I cannot say,” he repeated, quieter.

Fenris bit back a growl of frustration. “Is he in the house, you can say that much can’t you?”

“Anders has not left the grounds,” nodded Hal, opening his eyes again.

“Thank you” Fenris said quietly. “Is he in danger?” he queried again. Hal appeared to give the question careful consideration before he slowly shook his head.

“I do not believe so.”

“Hal, please it is important we find him. Please help us.” Fenris pleaded with a helpless look to Arden.

A faint look of what might pass for faint distress passed across Hal’s pale features. “I was ordered not to say where he is until tomorrow morning,” he answered slowly.

“It is morning, tell us Hal. The Champion...we care about him very much, please?” 

Hal closed his eyes as if in pain. “I was ordered... not until... tomorrow....” he repeated slowly.

“Hal... Please. If you cannot tell us.... then can you walk there?” asked Arden gently.

Hal nodded, rising to his feet and leaving the room. They followed as he walked down to the cellars, leading them to a corner they hadn’t noticed before. A plain wooden door was half-hidden in the shadows. Hal walked over to a nearby wine barrel and set a small key upon the top, not looking at them as he turned aside.

A faint groan of pain could be heard, muffled by the thick door.

Fenris didn’t wait for Arden to take the key, instead he phased his hand through and flipped the latch and opened the door. What greeted him made him pale and swear loudly.

The small cell - for that was what it resembled, plain stone walls, a blanket upon the floor, a reeking bucket in the corner - stank of vomit. Anders lay sprawled upon his side upon the blanket, his face hidden by his arm, his thin linen shirt stained. An empty flask lay upon its side near a limp hand. The mage appeared unconscious but moaned faintly.

“Shit…” Fenris knelt next to Anders and pulled his arm away so he could see his face, to check his pulse. “Anders...fucking talk to me.”

The mage moaned faintly, his eyelids fluttering, a shiver of white briefly visible behind the long gold eyelashes. His pulse was weak but steady, Anders’ skin cold and clammy, his face covered by a sheen of cold sweat.

“Magebane,” breathed Arden, recognising the pungent smell. 

“You damned idiot.” Fenris hissed as he picked Anders up, his gaze worried even with how angry he’d been at the mage the night before. 

“Start the bath, I’ll be behind you.” the elf said to Arden. “Tell the …, tell Hal to bathe as well, he stinks.”

“Hal, go to the guest bathing chamber and draw yourself a bath,” ordered Arden as he strode towards the stairs. He took them two at a time, yelling for Bodahn as he went.

By the time Fenris had made it to the main bathing chamber, his arms full of limp mage, a bath was running and both Bodahn and Orana were bustling around, fetching fresh towels and clothing, the dwarf then heading off to the guest bathing room to take care of Hal.

“I’ll hold him up if you can strip him off.” Fenris said as he put Anders down on a stool. Arden nodded and set to work, peeling off the stained and reeking clothes and throwing them into a corner for Orana to deal with. He reached for a soft cloth and began to sluice off as much grime as possible from Anders’ shivering body before standing and shedding his own clothes swiftly. He stepped into the bath and gestured.

“Pass him to me,” he said quietly.

Fenris did as asked and remained at the side of the tub, unsure if he should get in as well.

Anders was unresponsive as Arden slipped his arm around the unconscious mage’s shoulders, keeping his head above the water. He glanced up at Fenris, his amber eyes full of worry. 

Fenris returned the look of concern before he went to a shelf to get clean towels for them. “This ...is my fault.” he admitted quietly. “I’ll explain once he’s put to bed.”

Arden regarded him quietly, then slowly nodded. 

Anders stirred slightly with a faint groan. “It’s alright,” said Arden soothingly. “You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

Fenris leaned in and pulled Anders out of the tub, and wrapped a towel around him. “Let me put you to bed.” he said in the blond’s ear. “Can you walk at all?”

Anders’ eyes fluttered open, his gaze bleary. He tried to speak then turned his face away as he began to retch, his body convulsing in Fenris’ arms before he vomited a stream of dark bile onto the floor.

“Maker,” muttered Arden as he pulled himself out of the tub and reached for an empty bucket, pushing it beneath Anders. The sick mage groaned.

Fenris did his best not to throw up as well, instead he helped Anders keep his hair out of the bucket until he was done. The elf looked a bit green by the time he was finished.

“Sorry,” Anders managed to croak.

“Hush, it’s alright, I’ll take care of it,” murmured Arden soothingly as he wiped Anders’ sweating face with a damp cloth. “All done?”

Anders nodded, shivering.

“Get him into bed, I’ll deal with this,” said Arden.

Fenris nodded and helped Anders to their bed, his expression tense. Unsure what would happen when he confessed to Arden why they were in such a state with each other. Anders shivered beneath the comforter, eyes half-open. When the elf made to move away, he reached out with a fumbling hand and clutched weakly at Fenris’ wrist.

“Don’t go,” he breathed, then moaned.

“Arden needs help cleaning up, and I need to speak to him about my further transgressions. You will be fine.” Fenris said as he let Anders hold his wrist despite the desire to flee.

Anders turned his head and stared at Fenris. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Fine, you’re sorry. Let go.” 

Anders’ fingers slipped free of Fenris’ wrist and he turned away, hunching down with his face pressed to the pillow, still murmuring half-delirious apologies.

The elf rubbed his wrist as he went back to the bathing chamber to see what Arden needed. “He is nearly delirious.”

Arden had dressed in pants and was sluicing buckets of water over the floor, washing the vomitus down the drain. He glanced up.

“If he took that whole flask then I’m not surprised,” he replied tersely. He let the empty bucket fall and gestured for Fenris to follow him as he returned to the bedroom. He made his way to the side of the bed and folded his arms, staring down at the shivering, half-conscious apostate as he mumbled to himself incoherently. Then he bent down and laid a hand upon Anders’ forehead, murmuring something.

Anders’ eyes closed and he fell silent, slipping into sleep. After a moment, Arden straightened and turned to Fenris.

“You said this was your fault. Explain,” he said quietly, his brow furrowed with concern.

“We fought after I returned to the estate, he ...said I was still a slave, still seeking a master and it hurt me deeply. I was cruel before I left to get the ingredients for the potion he gave you yesterday. I think my indifference and anger when we had words again, may have led to him taking too much magebane. His demon flared up at me when I showed my own hurt.” Fenris leaned against the wall and sighed. “I am ...doing so well at ruining everything with you both today.”

Arden sat down on the end of the bed and stared at Fenris. “So... Justice felt Anders was being threatened by you and decided to show his hand?” he said quietly. “It wouldn’t be the first time Anders has taken magebane to try and control him. I’ve never known him to take so much though - or to lock himself away in a prison cell to do so.” 

“Neither have I. He thought I was leaving, that’s what sparked the fight to begin with. Then when I confessed a condensed version of why you were so distraught he ...tackled me and said those things.” Fenris said with a slam of his fist against the wall. “I should have known better than to think I could be happy.”

Arden merely raised an eyebrow at Fenris. “You think this is all about you?” he said quietly, a faint note of surprise in his voice.

“Not all of it no, but a fair share of the blame is mine to take.” Fenris replied as he rubbed his now sore hand.

“Anders has been struggling more and more against Justice since the other Anders returned to his own Kirkwall,” said Arden. “And what happened between Sebastian and I was no fault of yours, though I wish you had not confronted Sebastian over it.” A brief look of pain crossed his face and he closed his eyes briefly before carrying on. “I was silent about my... my experience with Alrik... for my own reasons. I wish you had trusted me enough love to understand my reasons were good.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “Perhaps I should have confided in you what truly happened, but I was afraid you would react exactly like this. My fears were not unfounded, it seems.”

“I cannot help but feel rage over your pain beloved. But with every word I speak I dig the hole deeper. It does not matter, what is between Anders and I is damaged, and I fear it may not be repairable.” Fenris glanced at him then pushed off the wall to slump into a nearby chair. “I’m just a fuck up, and it’s finally coming back to me.” he said with a hysterical little hitch to his voice.

Arden glanced back at Anders, who lay still, only a faint wheezing snore betraying how deeply he slept; then he rose and walked slowly towards the elf.

“Do you think he still cares for you?” he asked softly.

“He said he did, but after his other words I am unsure if I can trust him. To tell me such things Arden...to think he still sees me in such a manner even if the words were said in anger they were in his heart anyway.” 

Arden crouched down beside the chair so he was not looming over the elf. “Anders was afraid,” he said quietly. “He has been afraid a very long time. And perhaps those words were not in his heart but Justice’s; did you consider that? That maybe by locking himself away and drugging himself with magebane, he was trying to silence his spirit and save you further pain?” He tilted his head upon one side. “It seems to me that perhaps that was what he was trying to do. Do you still care for him?”

Fenris looked over Anders with a sigh. “I am unsure right now. My heart hurts, and I feel like anything I say will be hurtful in response to my own pain. I would not leave if you wished me to remain. Right now I almost feel as if my presence is making things harder for you both to be happy.”

Arden shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to leave. I was terrified last night that you would. I think Anders was too. Your leaving would only make all three of us desperately unhappy. It would solve nothing.”

“I would not be the cause of such strife. I will remain if it is what you wish Arden.” Fenris said, his gaze on the slow rise and fall of Anders’ chest.

“It is. And were he awake and coherent enough to speak for himself, I think Anders would say the same,” replied Arden gently.

“Forgive me for doubting that right now.” the elf said before he curled up in the chair and turned his gaze to the window and what he could see of the street below.

“Then ask him yourself when he wakens,” said Arden as he straightened. He turned and walked over towards the wardrobe. he leafed through and then pulled out a soft dark green robe trimmed in silver. Fingering the fabric briefly, he pulled it out and donned it. “I’m going to check on Hal,” he said quietly. “Our Tranquil guest has been behaving almost - untranquilly.” 

“I will remain here for now.” Fenris said almost absently.

“As you wish,” said Arden, as he turned and left, the soft silk robes swishing about his ankles.

**

Even as one Anders slept deeply under the influence of magic and magebane, another Anders was stirring, his eyes opening slowly as he groaned. He felt like he had the worst hangover of his entire adult existence. 

Six vials of lyrium. What on earth had he been thinking? He was damned lucky to be still alive.

He rolled onto his back and instantly regretted it as the room span and his stomach lurched.

“Someone kill me,” he moaned as he drew his arm up over his eyes to shield them from the light. Everything was too bright, too sharp. Even thinking hurt.

“No, we already told you you won’t come to harm here. Even if you beg for it.” Fenris said as he looked over a scroll of advanced words in Trade Vic had done up for him to study.

Anders groaned again. “Now you’re just taunting me,” he moaned as he lowered his arm and instantly regretted it. “How long was I asleep?”

“Several hours, I came to be sure you had not suffocated in your sleep. Now that I see you are not expired, you can come and join us for dinner.” Fenris smirked as he rolled the scroll back up and peered at the mage.

Anders whimpered piteously at mention of food, but pushed himself upright then slowly disentangled himself from the sheets and blankets before crawling to the edge of the bed. He set his feet down onto the floor then sat there, clutching his head and groaning.

“Come, Vic has a brew for such a headache. Also, you need water and food.” Fenris tucked the scroll under his arm and offered a hand up to the pitiful mage. Anders accepted the hand and let himself be hauled upright. He squinted at the elf.

“You seem more yourself now at least,” he grunted.

“What do you mean?” Fenris asked as he helped the mage out of the room and towards the kitchen.

“Last thing I remember clearly, you were... not really yourself,” said Anders slowly. “Hawke said you’d had a disturbing encounter at the Black Emporium, and you were fairly unresponsive when I got here. The potion helped then?”

“Somewhat, yes. Thank you.” Fenris said in an effort to avoid discussing it further.

“I’m glad,” said Anders quietly. He pressed a hand hard against his stomach as it lurched again uneasily. He paused, a look of distress upon his face. “Excuse me,” he said suddenly in a strangled tone and darted into the privy. 

Fenris let go and watched him dash in, slam the door before horrid, retching sounds came from the other side of the door. They continued for a a little while after Fenris was sure there couldn’t possibly be anything left in the mage’s body to come up, and then there was silence. Then the door opened slowly and Anders reappeared, rather pale, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and looking decidedly wobbly-legged. 

“Sorry,” said Anders quietly. He made a face. “Lyrium doesn’t taste any better coming back up than it does going down.” 

“I can imagine. Come, we’ll get you settled and fed.” he urged Anders to go ahead of him so he could catch the mage if he started to slide or stumble down the stairs.

Anders made his way down slowly, but only stumbled once, near the bottom. He clutched at the elf’s arm as Fenris caught him easily, then straightened again, managing the last few steps unaided. 

“I am never, ever doing that again,” he announced quietly as he made it to the kitchen and fell into rather than sat upon the nearest chair.

“Drinking more lyrium than is feasible? I’d rather you didn’t.” Vic said as he slid a plate in front of the mage, and a mug full of a greenish potion. “It’s for your headache, take it all.”

The colour of Anders’ face matched the potion as he regarded the plate of food unenthusiastically; he reached for the mug and drank it down slowly. He set the empty mug down then slowly reached for a fork. “I didn’t exactly plan to do it in the first place,” he admitted as he poked the food gingerly.

“I know, but still.” Vic said as he passed him a mug of cold, clean water. “Drink it slowly, you know what happens when you chug cold water.”

Anders nodded and accepted the mug gratefully, sipping it slowly.

Fenris finished off his food and looked to the two mages, uncertain about when they should try to reach Arden in the Fade. “Do you wish to attempt your...whatever it is you plan to do in the Fade soon?”

Anders lowered the mug and glanced to Invictus. “Probably the sooner we go, the better,” he suggested. He glanced to Fenris. “Does this mean... you want to try my suggestion?” he said slowly.

“If it is the best way, then I will attempt it.” Fenris said slowly.

Anders set the mug down and stood up, stepping away from the table as he frowned and focussed inward, shaking out his fingers and arms as he drew in a deep breath then exhaled slowly. He closed his eyes and lifted his hands, palm uppermost, calling upon his magic until the healing power pooled like cool blue smoke in his hands. He opened his eyes and glanced to the other two men. 

“Hawke, I think it would be best if we all three linked hands. Fenris, when you’re ready, could you take us into the Fade and then bring us back out again?”

“Oh yeah meant right now?” he said in surprise.

“I just want to be sure we can actually do this first,” said Anders. “Just briefly hop into the Fade and back out again.” 

“Alright.” Fenris took their hands and concentrated on slipping into the Fade, his eyes opened briefly as he felt the shift, and relief that they were with him still.

Anders gasped faintly as he felt the tug upon his power and then that same draining feeling, his magic drawn into Fenris’ lyrium as it sang in his veins. He blinked as the kitchen was overlaid with the rippling green light of the Fade. “It works,” he breathed.

“Can we go now?” Fenris muttered. Anders nodded quickly.

Vic opened his eyes warily then smiled at the fact they were there, that Fenris had pulled it off. His grin dropped at the expression on his lover’s face.

“Take us back Fenris,” said Anders, a note of strain in his voice. He gritted his teeth at the sudden surge of power and then reeled as the kitchen reappeared around them. He would have fallen if not for Invictus’ strong grasp upon his hand. “I’m.... not entirely recovered I guess,” he panted, feeling drained and exhausted.

Fenris did as requested and dropped their hands as soon as he looked around to confirm they were home. Then he promptly hit the ground in a dead faint.

Anders looked down at the elf. “I know just how he feels,” he murmured as his own knees gave way.

“Both of you? Come on.” Vic said as he fell into a nearby chair.

Anders groaned from where he lay sprawled on the floor. “I think... we need to wait a while before we try that again,” he murmured faintly.

“I agree.” He slipped down to the floor and tapped Fenris’ face with no response at all from the elf.

“I think...” said Anders, but whatever he thought was left unsaid as his eyes fluttered closed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Despair demon stops by for a snack, Fenris and Anders have a serious talk about things, after a close encounter of the Tranquil kind for Fenris.

Anders was vaguely aware of being moved; his hands trailed limply on the floor, brushing over smooth flagstones, polished wood and then a soft rug before he felt himself being lifted up onto a low couch. Small hands cradled his head as someone pushed a soft cushion beneath; as his eyes opened slowly he stared up into Sandal’s face as the young dwarf broke into a broad smile. 

“Enchantment,” he said quietly.

“Hush, Sandal, let the nice messere rest,” chided Bodahn gently as he drew a soft blanket over Anders. “I’m sorry, messere, I don’t think we could manage to get you up to the guest room.”

Anders waved a hand weakly. “This is fine,” he said quietly. “Where is Hawke?”

“The master is upstairs with his elven friend,” replied Bodahn quietly. “Will there be anything else you’ll be wanting messere?”

Anders shook his head as he closed his eyes. “I’ll be fine here,” he replied. He slipped back into dreams even as the two dwarves stole silently out of the study.

He was back in the Fade, holding hands with Fenris. The elf was glowing brightly as Anders’ magic drained into him, and no matter how much the mage gave him, it seemed it wasn’t enough. Anders delved deep until the last trickle of his mana gave out, and yet the elf’s lyrium still pulled at him, singing its siren song through his veins and demanding yet more of a body that had already been overtaxed and poisoned by the intoxicating substance. 

Anders could only reach for his own life essence, the last resort of a spirit healer, and Fenris took it with a fierce joy, seeming to grow stronger even as Anders weakened. He felt the elf’s arms slip around him as his life ebbed away, and with a sense of deep despair he knew it wasn’t enough, could never be enough even as the voices whispered his darkest fears to him.

What was the point of struggling any more? What was the use? No matter how much he gave, he could never give enough, never be enough. He could only ever fail the ones who needed him. 

He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling in quiet desperation. He felt so weak and tired. Nothing left to give. Why did he continue to struggle? It was useless. Better to give in, submit, give up.

There was a knife in his hand. He didn’t know where it had come from. He closed his eyes as the voices whispered, the dark miasma of despair clouding his mind. He set the sharp blade against the inside of his wrist.

A warm dry hand grasped the wrist of his knife hand, the fingers digging in until it hurt, until he thought he could feel the bones grind together. Something gave, and fierce bright pain electrified his nerves as the knife fell from numb fingers. He opened his eyes with a hoarse cry of pain and stared up into Invictus’ hard glare as the shock of pain stripped the grey suffocating fog from his mind, leaving him with clarity of thought.

“Despair demon,” growled the dark-skinned mage. “You were about to feed it your blood. I really wouldn’t recommend it.”

Fenris appeared over his lovers shoulder, his expression tired even as he tried to reach for the blond man. He thought better of it and stepped back so Vic could help Anders off the floor. “I can’t, I’m still exhausted from earlier and there’s the demon to contend with.” the elf said before he folded himself on the floor.

Vic offered Anders a hand up, and kicked the knife away just in case. “Come on, we seem to have brought a spare passenger back with us. It’s been gnawing at both of you and I just now realized it. Can you walk on your own? I can’t carry both of you.”

Anders stared around him, slightly bewildered; he was still on the floor of the kitchen, the flagstones cold and hard against his back. He must have dreamed Bodahn and Sandal. He glanced back at Invictus then without thinking reached up with his left hand then blanched as pain licked down his arm from wrist to elbow. He glanced at the bruises blossoming around his wrist then cradled his arm against his chest and reached up with his right hand, Invictus’ grasp firm and sure as the dark-skinned mage helped him sit up.

“Give me a few moments,” he said quietly as a wave of dizziness briefly washed over him. He waited until it had subsided then with an effort managed to make it to his feet, grabbing the back of a chair to steady himself with his good hand.

“Sorry, it was the only way to get you to let go.” Vic said as he helped Anders up fully. 

“Not complaining,” said Anders. “Broken wrist or demon possession? I’ll take the broken wrist, thanks.” He stared down at his injured wrist and sighed. “And me tapped out of mana right now - and I don’t dare risk taking any lyrium.”

“We know I’m shite at healing, but I can at least put you in a sling until you get some energy back.” Vic said as he let Anders stand on his own before he tried to help his lover up. 

“I can get up on my own, I just need a moment. I can also splint your wrist Anders once we’re at the table. I remember you vaguely mentioning bones should heal on their own so they are not weakened.” Fenris muttered as he dragged himself up and to the cabinet where his kit was.

Anders dropped into the chair and nodded. He carefully felt his wrist, probing it inwardly with his healer’s senses. “Thankfully it doesn’t need setting,” he said. “But a splint would be a good idea to ensure it heals straight. The last thing I need is to have it half-heal crooked and need to be rebroken.” He cradled the wrist with his other hand as he watched the elf.

Fenris nodded as he set out two thin strips of wood, a triangle of thick linen, and a roll of bandages. He washed his hands, out of habit more than anything else since there was no chance of infection with the healer’s injury. He held Anders arm out briefly, then measured where it would need to bend slightly to accommodate the natural curve of the man’s palm before he wet the palm wood on one end and curved it over his wrist. He wrapped the splint with linen to pad it before setting it gently against Anders’ arm.

“Vic, hold the bottom for me until I wrap his palm.” Once the mage’s palm and wrist were secured, he wrapped the bandage until it was tight around the wood and wouldn’t budge. “There, is it alright?”

Anders had grimaced as they worked, in pain even though Fenris had worked as gently as possible. He carefully felt the bandage with his good hand then nodded, satisfied that the bandage was tight enough without being so tight it would impede his circulation. He swallowed hard, fighting down the wave of nausea the waves of pain were stirring up.

“A sling, and then willowbark tea if you have any,” he said quietly. “Poppy juice would be even better.”

Vic arched an eyebrow at the other mage. “Poppy juice? I thought people just drank that for the occasional ...you know buzz?” he said in confusion. 

“I know we have willowbark, Vic that large dark square of linen is meant to be a sling.” Fenris said as he put his things away except for the sling.

“Poppy juice is a powerful analgesic,” answered Anders, gritting his teeth as he lifted his splinted arm with his other hand so Invictus could slide the sling in between his arm and his chest before tying the sling in place. He let the fabric take the weight of his arm then slumped back in the chair, face drawn with pain.

Fenris sat down after he got the kettle going, and slumped forward, head resting on his crossed arms. “I hate the Fade.” he muttered tiredly.

“You and me both right now,” murmured Anders.

“I guess it was my turn for the demons to notice me. Why a despair demon of all things? Isn’t my life riddled with enough of it as it is?” the elf said.

Vic’s answer was cut off by the sharp whistle of the kettle. He prepared willowbark for them both, and mint tea for himself. He had to nudge Fenris in order for the elf to sit up and sip at his drink.

Anders sipped slowly at the tea. “I guess it thought we were already pretty tasty and it wouldn’t take much more to push us over the edge.” He stared at the pale skin on the inside of his wrist, remembering the feel of the blade pressed against the blue tracery of veins. How with one flick of his wrist -

He closed his eyes and shuddered.

“I’ve had enough of being a feast for them in Minrathous.” Fenris said, then seemed to realize that he’d verbalized his thoughts. Instead he found something intriguing in the bottom of his mug to keep from looking at either mage at the table. 

Vic jumped up and busied himself with putting together something for sandwiches, something easy to eat due to Anders injury.

Anders kept his eyes lowered, deliberately not looking at the elf, guessing that perhaps in his current vulnerable state Fenris had let slip more than he would otherwise have done. He stared at his wrist. He had thought of ending his life so many times in his year in isolation, but it had taken a despair demon to bring him to the actual brink of death at his own hand.

Fenris continued to avoid eye contact and grabbed a sandwich before the plate had even touched the table. He wouldn’t admit some things to others, even if he had started over on a better foot with the former warden. 

Anders ignored the food. The way his stomach felt right now, he couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t come straight back up again; if he had felt queasy before their trip into the Fade, it was nothing to how his stomach felt right now. He closed his eyes and waited for the willowbark to take at least the edge off his pain.

Vic sighed as he ate at a normal pace. None of them were in a talkative mood, and he was worried about Fenris spiraling right back to where he’d been a couple days before. He trailed a hand over the elf’s shoulders as he passed behind him to get more water for tea.

Fenris didn’t acknowledge his touch, he continued to avert his gaze as he finished off his food. “I think I need to go to sleep for a week.” he muttered.

“I’m afraid to sleep,” confessed Anders quietly. “That’s twice now that demons have tried to tempt me in my sleep. Maybe I should take a little of the sleeping draught. I don’t want to risk drawing yet more demons to us right now.”

“Will it keep you out for as long? I might...may I have some as well?” Fenris asked softly.

“Depends how much I take,” Anders shrugged. “Half a mug as before, and I should be out for a good eight to twelve hours, which will give my body a chance to heal and replenish my mana. For you? A couple of fingers would have much the same effect. You haven’t taken it as often as I have so you shouldn’t need as much.”

“Alright, I’ll be in our room.” Fenris pulled himself up and headed out to the stairs.

Anders hunched over and rubbed his face tiredly with his good hand. “What are we going to do about these demons?” he asked. “Right now it feels as though we’re steadily running through the catalogue of who’s who in the demonic stakes. Fear, Desire, Despair.... what’s next?”

“No idea, I’m rather tired of them all.” Vic said tiredly.

Anders tapped a finger on the table. “I can’t imagine a Sloth demon would find any of us particularly interesting. Rage...” he glanced up at Invictus. “I could see a Rage demon going for either you or Fenris,” he said carefully. “I don’t think I’d be quite such an easy target without Justice to goad, and I suspect Fenris would be more... useful to one. Pride... “ he shrugged. “I don’t know. I could see reasons for it to go for pretty much any of us, to be honest.”

Vic shrugged. “A rage demon coming after either of us would be an easy guess. Let me help you upstairs and we all should just turn in early I think. Tomorrow, much as I am loathe to do it, I should speak with Merrill since she knows the most of demons.” 

Anders lifted his head and frowned. “Because she’s a blood mage and I’m not?” he said irritably. “My Circle education not good enough I -” He broke off and grimaced. “Sorry. I’m in pain and it’s making me ratty.”

“No, because she’s foolish enough to deal with demons. It has nothing to do with your Circle education.” Vic said tiredly. “I’d rather never speak to her again, as it is she barely tolerates me after I refused to give her the arloon, arl… something she wanted from her clan.” 

“The arulin’holm,” said Anders. “She ranted at me about it the last time I visited her, just before you and Arden showed up and I...took my ill-advised little trip on Arden’s coat-tails,” he winced.

“Regardless, she may well slam her door in my face. Right now I think we should get to sleep and tackle the problem of demons after resting.” The brunet helped Anders up and steered him towards the staircase. 

Anders nodded. “I’d almost forgotten how exhausting pain is,” he murmured. “I think I’ll need your help to measure out the sleeping draught.”

“Of course.” Vic said as he helped the other mage down to the bed. “I’ll be back, the cups are still in our room.”

Anders glanced round the guest room then up at Invictus. “Hawke... Invictus. Could I... come sleep in your room? Please? I’m not sure I want to be alone, sleeping draught or no.” 

Invictus sighed and nodded after a long moment of staring at the other mage. “If you snore I’m putting you on the floor next to Malum. Come on.”

“If I sleep deeply enough, I won’t even notice,” replied Anders. 

“I’m sure you won’t, but I’m not used to my bed mate snoring.” Vic said as he picked up Anders’ bag and led them into the room. “Love, do you mind...if Anders sleeps here as well?”

“Don’t care, but either of you snore you’re going out with the dog.” Fenris muttered from where he’d flopped face first into the pillows.

Anders gestured to his bag. “It’s the small dark bottle - the square one,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed and reached down with his good hand to loosen the buckles on his boots before toeing them off. He glanced down at the shirt and pants then decided that undressing that far would be more pain than it was worth. He picked the far left side of the bed so neither Fenris nor Invictus would be able to knock his arm as they slept; the sleeping draught should put him far enough under that the pain wouldn’t wake him, but he didn’t want to risk further damage that would cost him yet more pain to fix later.

“Half a mug for me, two fingers for Fenris,” he reminded Invictus as he settled back against the pillows carefully.

The Champion nodded and poured out the doses. He handed Anders his and nudged Fenris over so he could take his. “Budge over, I’ll be last asleep and don’t want to climb over you.” 

The elf muttered something half hearted and moved to the middle, took the shot of potion and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Anders glanced at the unconscious elf, then back to Invictus. Raising the mug in a silent toast, he drained it slowly then lay back against the pillows and waited for it to take effect. “See you on the other side,” he said drowsily.

“Yeah.” Vic watched as Anders closed his eyes but didn’t seem to sleep immediately. Cautiously Vic snapped his fingers by the other mage’s ear to see if he dropped off as quickly as he had before. Anders’ eyes flickered open in startlement, the amber gaze slightly unfocused.

“Huh... wha?” he slurred.

“Oh, oh I thought maybe you had dropped as fast as you did last time. At least Fenris seems out for the count already.” Invictus pulled his hand back and flopped back down next to his elven partner. He wasn’t as tired, but the demons hadn’t used him for an early evening meal either.

Anders sighed. “Been using it too much lately,” he murmured sleepily. “More you take it, the more it takes... less it works. Fine line between enough and too much though. Don’t dare take more... might never wake up again.” His eyes were half-lidded, his words slow and indistinct as the drug slowly took hold. “Can’t... can’t....” His voice trailed off as his eyes closed and the empty mug slipped from his limp fingers, his head rolling to one side.

Vic winced at the loud thunk the mug gave when it hit the floor but it hadn’t broken. He lay back down and closed his eyes in an attempt to rest. It was going to be a long night.

**

Another Kirkwall, another Anders who stirred slightly, a frown creasing his forehead as a faint moan escaped his lips. He felt drugged, his limbs heavy, a hollow emptiness where his link to the Fade should be. His mouth felt vile, his lips dry and cracked, his stomach sore.

He opened his eyes slowly and blinked up at the ceiling.

Fenris turned when he heard Anders rustling about. He rose and poured the mage a glass of water before sitting on the bed and helping him sit up. “Can you swallow if I hold this up?”

Anders nodded, the movement somewhat jerky. He tried to speak but his throat was too dry.

Fenris held the mug up so he could drink, after a few sips he held it away from the mage’s mouth so he could attempt speaking.

“How... how long?” Anders managed to rasp.

“A few hours in bed. I don’t know how long you locked yourself away in that room, you idiot.” Fenris said with a hint of fondness in his voice.

“Lost track of time,” Anders muttered. “Can’t have been more than... a day? Maybe? Took enough magebane to last at least two days. I think. Don’t know how much I brought back up.”

“Why did you do this?” Fenris said quietly.

“Wanted just my own thoughts in my head for once. To know what’s me.” He rolled his eyes over to Fenris. “To keep you safe,” he breathed.

“I don’t need you to keep me safe,” the elf said. “Idiot, don’t kill yourself.”

Anders tried to shake his head. “Don’t particularly want to die,” he said. “Just... I don’t want to hurt you like that. Not ever.”

Fenris sighed as he gently brushed dishevelled blond hair back out of Anders’ eyes. “What are we going to do?” he said quietly. 

“I wish I knew,” said Anders miserably. He could feel his eyes prickling with tears again, and he turned his face away. He felt weak, ill and pathetic, helpless and hopeless.

Gently Fenris turned Anders’ face back so the mage had to meet his eyes, and he wiped away the tears with his thumb. “I don’t want to hurt you either,” he said softly. “I never did.”

“I’m s-”

Fenris laid his finger over Anders’ cracked lips. “Hush. I know,” he said gently, and held the sick mage close as Anders’ chest heaved.

“You are not yourself yet,” the elf rumbled quietly as he stroked the tousled and tangled blond hair. “We should not speak of this until you are more recovered.”

“I’m more myself now than I have been for years,” Anders disagreed, his voice ragged. “I feel sick as a dog but at least my thoughts are my own for once.”

“And what are you thinking?” asked Fenris cautiously. He felt Anders try to pull away and he helped the blond apostate to rest back against the pillows.

“That I still love you, even after everything that passed between us,” said Anders. “And that I want us to try again. Not to give up at the first hurdle.”

“I cannot forget what you said to me, Anders.” Fenris frowned.

“I’m not asking you to,” replied Anders quietly. “I’m not likely to forget in a hurry either. I bitterly regret every word that passed my lips. You’re not a slave. You are your own man, free. If any man here is a slave, it is I... I - I cannot even trust my own thoughts, and every day I fear there is more of Justice, a little less of me. I’ve bought a few hours of freedom at the expense of my health and my magic, but it won’t last.”

Fenris stared at Anders, his gaze troubled. “Is there no way to free yourself of this de-” He checked himself. “Of this... spirit?”

“By dying, maybe,” Anders smiled mirthlessly. “Other than that? I don’t know. I’ve never heard of anyone joining with a spirit and then surviving its departure. Then again, I don’t know of anyone who joined with a spirit and didn’t turn straight away into an abomination. But even if it were possible to separate Justice and I, how much of me is left? I feel... empty. Like I’ve lost something. But I know this, Fenris; you are a stronger man than I, and no man’s slave. You need no master. I swear this from my heart - mine, not Justice.” He struck himself hard upon the chest to emphasis the point then fell back, even that little effort exhausting him.

Fenris dropped his gaze to the down comforter. “I wish I could trust that those words, that contempt I heard from your lips were all from Justice and not from your own heart. But I cannot. My trust has been broken, Anders, and it will not be an easy thing to rebuild.”

“Then -” began Anders hopelessly but fell silent as Fenris lifted his head sharply.

“I did not say I would not try,” the elven warrior said quietly. 

“I love you,” whispered Anders brokenly.

“And I never stopped loving you, even though perhaps for a little while I hated you for it.”

Anders blanched, his face stricken. Fenris reached out and cupped Anders’ pale cheek in his hand. “Only for a little while,” he repeated gently. “When I saw you in that cell....” He sighed and shook his head. “You foolish, foolish mage.” He closed his eyes. “We have both been fools. But perhaps it is not too late to make amends. What is done is done, what is said has been said and cannot be unsaid. But the future is yet unwritten, and I would write that with you and Arden, if you are willing.”

“I am,” breathed Anders. He reached for the elf’s hand and clutched it with trembling fingers. Fenris opened his eyes and covered Anders’ hand with his own, a faint sad smile upon his lips. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe they could turn this around and start anew. Maybe.

“Still love me?” whispered Anders with a small smile.

“Maker help me, I do,” admitted the elf. “Maker help us both.” He stroked the side of Anders’ face lightly with his fingertips. “You should sleep; you are still very sick.”

“Don’t go,” begged Anders.

“I will not leave you,” replied the elf. He sighed. “I do not think -” He paused then shook his head. “No. We will speak more after you have slept and are stronger. Sleep now.”

Anders obediently closed his eyes, his chest soon rising and falling in the slow, steady cadence of sleep.

Fenris didn’t sleep, not until well after Arden had climbed into their bed and wrapped his arms around his middle, and his breathing evened out into a slow, steady cadence. The elven warrior’s mind would not settle, his thoughts would not still even as the sky darkened into twilight. He finally closed his eyes and fell into an uneasy rest, too much on his mind to fall further into the Fade.

**

Arden woke first, early the next morning. A distant rumble of thunder startled him from his sleep, but as the first splashes of rain hit the window he lay back, simply listening to the wind and rain, content to lie for the moment.

He glanced down fondly at Fenris where he lay curled up against Arden’s side like some great cat, face hidden under the down comforter, only his hair showing. He gently ran idle fingers through the snowy-white locks.

“Not… a cat…” Fenris mumbled as he opened his eyes, and despite his protestations, snuggled further into Arden’s touch.

“I’m not so sure of that,” chuckled Arden, keeping his voice low. “I think if I were to stroke behind your ears you might start purring.” He ran a finger ever so lightly along the delicate curve of the shell of Fenris’ ear.

“Elves don’t purr.” he said sleepily, a shiver running through him at the touch.

Sliding slightly further down the bed and twisting round so he was raised upon one elbow, face to face with Fenris, he leaned over and ran his tongue along the path his fingers had traced, then lightly blew upon the wet trace.

“Trying to start something so early in the morning?” Fenris said, his voice husky and still thick from sleep.

“Why, are you offering?” asked Arden softly, lowering himself so his eyes were on a level with the elf’s. He smiled gently.

“Perhaps, but we should move to the guest bed as not to awaken Anders.” Fenris closed his eyes, not really awake but willing to indulge his lover.

Arden pushed himself back up on his elbow and craned his neck back to look over at the unconscious mage. “He’s still completely out for the count,” he said quietly. Sitting up, he looked over Anders with a critical eye. “He still looks sick,” he sighed. He ran a hand through his hair then smiled ruefully. “And you’re only half awake.”

“Raincheck for later then? Unless there’s anything else on your mind?” the elf ventured as he curled closer to the mage’s warmth.

Arden responded automatically, his arm lifting to allow the elf to snuggle close again then curling around Fenris’ shoulders. “I’m worried about you two,” he admitted. “I know you both said some pretty unforgivable things to each other... but I also saw your face when you opened the door and saw him in that state. And I heard him beg you to stay earlier, before he fell asleep. I wasn’t eavesdropping, before you ask,” he added hurriedly, glancing down at Fenris. “I was passing the door and heard you two talking. I didn’t want to interrupt so I went and read in the study for a while after bathing.” 

“I’m worried as well. He broke my trust and…” Fenris trailed off as he gathered his thoughts for a moment. “I don’t know Arden, I still love him but…”

“He still loves you. Which is a good point to come back to and start from. There’s something still there. It’s damaged, yes, it’ll take time to mend - but it’s not utterly gone.”

“How do we fix it? I am no good with words as I’ve proven.” Fenris said tiredly.

“Then maybe words aren’t the right way to fix it,” suggested Arden gently. “Maybe you both need to find a way to show each other.”

“I don’t know what to do Arden.” Fenris said a little too loudly, then looked to his lover in anguish. “Why is this so hard?” he finally whispered.

“Because you still care. And you love him.” said Arden softly, brushing back a lock of white hair that had fallen in Fenris’ eyes with one slender forefinger. “You have to give him time to show you he can be trusted. And you need to show him that you won’t reject his efforts out of hand or turn on him again. He’s very afraid, Fenris - just as much as you are.”

Anders stirred slightly, his snores quieting then silent as he murmured something indistinct.

Fenris sat up and looked at the other mage, a slight frown on his features. “We should go to the other room so we don’t wake him.” 

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” whispered Arden. “I’m not sure how he’ll react if he wakes to find himself alone.”

Anders murmured something again; they caught something that might have been “no”, and he shifted slightly, one hand reaching out briefly towards Fenris.

“No, what Anders?” Fenris asked him even as he turned to caress the blond’s face gently. Anders turned his face into the touch, eyes still closed.

“Don’... wanna be... alone,” he breathed, his breath warm upon Fenris’ skin.

“We’re right here, we won’t leave you.” Fenris said quietly. He glanced at Arden then slipped back down to the bed, his arm across Anders chest.

Arden moved closer so he was spooned up against Fenris’ back, lifting up on his elbow to peer over at Anders. The sleepy apostate shifted slightly again, rolling a little over onto his side toward the elf as his eyelids fluttered, not quite opening.

“I did not mean to wake you.” Fenris muttered as he felt Anders curl against him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like nug shit,” mumbled Anders. “Which is my own fault, but there you go.” He nuzzled against Fenris’ bare chest. “You’re nice and warm,” he breathed.

“I would hope I’m warm, I’m alive.” Fenris murmured. He let his hand drift up to caress the mage’s profile in a mimicry of how Arden’s touch had woken him.

Anders wrinkled his nose up slightly then opened one eye, glancing up at the elf curiously. “Is this the point at which I start purring, or do I have to wait until I get a scritch behind the ears?” he asked, a faint hint of his old mischievousness in his voice.

“No scritches until you’ve bathed and eaten.” Fenris said quietly. He wasn’t sure about things, but at least Anders hadn’t shied from his touch or looked at him with fear again.

“I’m more than halfway asleep still,” murmured Anders. “I’m not entirely sure I’m not still dreaming. It’s a nice dream if I am though.”

“No you are awake, I’m pretty sure I am awake as well as Arden.” Fenris replied. Arden merely chuckled, content to lie there and observe his two lovers for the moment and let them quietly work things out between them.

Anders managed to open his other eye and blinked drowsily. “So, you’re awake, and Arden’s awake. So I guess I must be awake. Sort of.” He blinked again. “I’m babbling aren’t I?”

“Yes you are.” Fenris replied, he let his hand rest on Anders’ side, unsure what to say now that they were all awake.

“Are you still mad at me?” Anders asked in a small voice, his amber eyes darkening a little as he searched Fenris’ face for signs of tension or anger. He shifted his hand down to lay it over Fenris’ as it rested warm over his ribs as if to comfort himself that Fenris were actually touching him.

“A bit yes, still hurt and wary of what either of us might say in anger.” Fenris responded, his voice low and his gaze earnest but not as malicious as it would have been before.

Anders swallowed hard. “I’m not angry,” he said. “I stopped being angry before I ever went into the store room. I’m just... sad. And worried. And feeling desperately guilty for having hurt you.”

“Where do we go from here? I’m not good with words even when at my best Anders. I just know how to wield them like a blunt instrument, or a fine knife. I am no healer, or soothsayer.” Fenris replied, his voice thick with a feeling he couldn’t name.

“Some healer I am,” Anders said quietly, a faint note of bitterness creeping into his voice. “‘Do no harm’ - that’s the first lesson spirit healers are taught in the Circle. The lowliest apprentice is more worthy of the title of healer than I am right now.”

“Don’t… do not fall into such a pit as that.” Fenris growled, his voice still thick but with anger at the self-recrimination he heard in his lovers voice. “Just...don’t.”

Anders closed his eyes and drew a deep breath before opening them again and fixing his gaze upon the elf. “I swear to you I will never say such words to you again, and may the Maker strike me dead if they ever even cross my mind.”

“If such words ever cross your lips again, I will beat the Maker to striking you dead. For now, I wish to move on from this ...disaster. What would you have me do to make amends for my own harsh words?” Fenris said softly.

Anders stilled at Fenris’ words, for a moment barely daring even to breathe. When he finally drew breath, it was shaky, and he had to swallow before he could trust himself to speak. “Your words to me... “ He shook his head. “You had more cause for your words than I had for mine. But... if you will promise not to call me _ser_ again... I would be content with that.”

“As you wish.” Fenris agreed, his voice a tad shaky despite how he felt. “What bothers you so about it? I do not...fully understand.” he asked of his other mage lover.

“You’ve told me much about the magisters; enough for me to know I want nothing to do with them. I likely wouldn’t survive five minutes in Minrathous. When you call me ser.... It’s as though I’m seeing myself through a stranger’s eyes, and... if there’s one thing that terrifies me more than the thought of losing either of you two or losing my mind to Justice, it is the thought that I could descend to that level of depravity. Call me ser and you say I am no better than Danarius.” He shivered. “Life under the templars was little better than the life of a slave, and I would put no man in that position.”

“I understand now. I ...regret my sharp tongue even more now.” Fenris said sadly.

Anders’ hand tightened on Fenris’ briefly on his side, and then he gently moved the elf’s hand until it rested upon his chest over his heart; the warrior could feel the mage’s heart racing, fluttering beneath his palm like a frightened butterfly.

“I trust you with this,” Anders whispered.

“I am not sure I trust myself with such precious cargo.” the elf said quietly.

“Then I will trust for both our sakes,” replied Anders quietly, his eyes never leaving Fenris’ intense green gaze.

“Thank you.” the elf said around the lump in his throat.

Anders smiled hesitantly and then blinked as there came a stifled sniff from somewhere behind Fenris.

“Not you too.” Fenris said, the hitch in his own voice giving him away.

“Ignore me,” came Arden’s voice, muffled. “I’m just...” He hiccuped suddenly.

The elf rolled over and kissed Arden. “Sap.” he muttered before he sat up and stretched. 

Anders glanced over as Arden scrubbed at his face with a hand.

“Well, excuse me for feeling relieved my two favourite people aren’t at each other’s throats any more,” muttered the Champion, though the glance he gave Fenris was a fond one.

That brought the elf up short, then suddenly Arden had his arms full of a very pleased lover. He glanced down, startled, his arms reflexively going around Fenris as they rolled close to the edge of the bed. Then from somewhere Anders found a surge of energy - enough to fling himself upon his two lovers and send all three of them rolling over the edge of the bed onto the floor with surprised yells.

“Ow…someone’s elbow is in my back.” Fenris muttered with no real anger to his voice.

“Sorry love, I think that was me,” said Anders contritely as he shifted to one side. From somewhere beneath Fenris there was a wheezing gasp from Arden.

“I can’t breathe.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Fenris pulled himself out of the tangle of limbs and blond hair. Anders managed to roll over onto the floor. Arden lay sprawled on his back trying to catch his breath.

“Just for that you’re cooking breakfast, Fenris,” muttered Arden.

“Don’t complain when you get sick.” the elf said mischieviously. He could cook perfectly well, he just felt good enough to joke around again.

“Could... could someone help me up please?” asked Anders a little plaintively. Arden sat up and got to his feet then reached down a hand to the apostate. As Arden pulled him to his feet, Anders went a rather queasy shade of green.

“Back to bed with you,” said Arden hastily. “That was rather too energetic for someone who tried to poison themselves with magebane not that long ago.”

“I’ll bring our meal up, both of you stay in bed for now.” Fenris said as he dug around for a tunic and thicker leggings.

“Something light and easily digested for Anders,” suggested Arden as he tucked the now-trembling mage back into bed. “Maybe a little oatmeal.”

“I’ll see if there is something in the pantry. Rest until my return.” Fenris said on his way out the door.

Arden settled Anders in the bed, tugging the covers straight. The apostate was looking rather pale again, but his eyes were brighter and he seemed a little more relaxed now if rather exhausted.

“Happier?” asked Arden quietly.

“Much,” replied Anders. “It’s... not perfect, but... it’s a good start. I don’t feel like a vice is crushing my chest any more.”

“And how are you feeling physically? The truth, Anders,” added Arden, fixing the apostate with a stern glare.

“Weak, shaky, aching all over but I’ll live,” replied Anders as he closed his eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making up is fun, but exhausting. Demons everywhere, well in one place in particular. Vic does the thing, even after he's told not to.

Fenris headed into the kitchen, and got to work on a hearty meal for all of them, but he yelped when he heard the sound of Hal right behind him asking if he needed assistance.

“You...are far too quiet.” he gasped.

The Tranquil mage tilted his head to one side. He was dressed in clean and mended Chantry robes, like any other one of the Tranquil. He lifted the hem of his robe and glanced down at the worn slippers on his feet. “I am accustomed to moving quietly. Noisy shoes are a distraction to young apprentices and obtrusive to older scholars. Silence is a goodness.” He glanced up. “I can endeavour to make more sound however.”

“It’s fine, you just surprised me is all.” Fenris turned back to what he was doing, silently thankful he wasn’t using a knife when Hal had snuck upon him.

“Do you require assistance?” Hal repeated his earlier question. “I have not been assigned any duties and Anders is... not able to direct me at present. Is he well?”

“He is well enough. Here, chop these vegetables and start water for oatmeal.” Fenris replied.

Hal nodded, rolling up his sleeves and setting to work calmly and efficiently. It took Fenris a little while to realise that the Tranquil mage had indirectly shown what could have been considered concern for the blond apostate healer.

“Hal, do you...why did you ask after Anders?” Fenris asked carefully as he measured out cut oats with a bit of fruit to make for his lover.

“He took a large quantity of magebane which would incapacitate any mage and would likely result in unpleasant side effects. In my experience he would be very sick for a number of days afterwards. He has been... accommodating of my requirement to be useful, and conversation with him is...” The Tranquil mage paused, a slight frown marring the smoothness of his forehead as he considered the right words to explain himself. “His presence is a goodness.”

“I don’t understand, do you mean when he…” Fenris lit his brands as an example of what he meant. “Is that what you mean by goodness?”

Hal blinked and slowly set the knife down. “No,” he said slowly, then paused and took a step closer to the elf. “That is lyrium. I have never seen anyone like you before.”

“Neither has anyone else it seems.” Fenris replied bitterly. He glanced up at Hal and considered his question. “When he glows, do you feel?”

Hal nodded slowly. “Yes. I... can feel again. For a little while. Afterwards I cannot remember how to feel, but I remember I did. But that is not why I said his presence is a goodness.”

“Explain, please?” Fenris queried again, his gaze glued to the brand on the former mages forehead.

“He employs my skills usefully but does not take me for granted. He does not hurt me as the templars sometimes do and he is considerate of my requirements. He treats me as a fellow healer and not an automaton. He treats me as human. That is a goodness.”

“You are still human, do they … how did they mistreat you in the Gallows?” the elf asked, afraid of what he was about to hear.

Hal told him, simply, factually and unemotionally. Within a few short sentences the elven warrior realised that Alrik’s abuses had not ended when he did; and the suffering of the mages that fell to the hands of the templars did not always end with the brand upon their foreheads.

“The Tranquil must serve,” Hal finished quietly.

Fenris turned away and sat at the table, he didn’t know what to think. He knew that Hal was not lying and added to what Sebastian confessed to him; it was enough to make him ill. “Hal, please make the oatmeal for Anders, I will return in a bit.” He bolted for the closest privy.

Hal turned back to his assigned task, his face as blank and empty of emotion as it had been all along.

Fenris took a long time to return, his stomach in knots and his mind in turmoil. “Thank you Hal.”

Hal merely inclined his head in acknowledgement, stirring the cooking oatmeal carefully so it would not burn.

“Make your own breakfast, bathe and you may read in the library until someone comes for you.” Fenris said shakily as he put everything on a tray and returned to their room. “Here, I am not hungry.” he said quietly.

“Are you alright love?” asked Arden as he glanced up from his seat by the window, looking concerned. Anders was just stirring from the light doze he had slipped into shortly after Fenris had gone downstairs.

“No…Hal, he…” the elf stopped and choked up a bit as he looked at both his lovers with guilt, anger and fear flickering over his face. “He told me of the Circle.”

Anders opened his eyes and sat up. “What of the Circle?” he asked quietly, his expression grave.

“What was done to him after he was Tranquiled. He said it so plainly, as if it were mere fact. Maker, what kind of evil is there. Such things were only heard of in Minrathous and only done to slaves.” Fenris shuddered before he looked at Anders. “He asked after you, said you were kind and a goodness to him.”

Anders’ expression was sorrowful. “There are things worse than death,” he said softly. “Do you remember I said that to you once? There are many reasons why I would rather die than submit to Tranquility, Fenris.”

“I understand now.” the elf said as he unfolded himself and crawled back into their bed.

Arden took his own breakfast from the tray, placing it on his desk, then set the tray with Anders’ oatmeal gently in the mage’s lap. Anders took up the spoon and sighed. “He called me a goodness?” He smiled faintly. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been called that before.”

Fenris didn’t speak, he just burrowed under the covers so he could rest while they ate. His whole world had been tipped upside down and he didn’t know what to do about it.

Anders ate slowly, pausing each time he felt his stomach twinge uneasily, and laid his spoon down after eating perhaps half of what was in the bowl. “I think that’s as much as I dare risk just yet,” he said ruefully.

Arden removed the tray then finished his own breakfast as Anders leaned over and hugged Fenris gently. “At least Hal is out of their hands now,” he said quietly. “He will meet only kindness at our hands - a goodness, as he would say.”

“Have you heard from his father? He’s been here for some time now.” Fenris said from under his bundle of blankets.

“I was... rather preoccupied in the store room,” replied Anders uncomfortably.

“I’ve had no word either,” added Arden. “I’ll go see Varric and see if he can ferret out what’s going on.”

“If you need an escort, I will go with you Arden, you are staying put until you are well.” Fenris managed to sound irritated and concerned all in the same breath.

Arden frowned. “I’m mostly healed, and it was only a little blood loss, Fenris. You’ve had worse and gone out the next day to help take down a ring of slavers; I’m sure I can manage a stroll down to the Hanged Man.”

“He’s only concerned for you, love, the same as I am,” said Anders placatingly. “We still don’t know who sent those fake templars after one of us, and I’m in no fit state to go find out if there’s word from my contacts about it. There could be more of them out there.” He glanced at Fenris then back to Arden. “Please, take Fenris with you. I’ll worry less about you knowing his sword is by your side.”

Arden huffed in annoyance then threw his hands up. “Very well - Fenris, we’ll both go see Varric.” He fixed Anders with a stare. “If only to stop you working yourself up with worry.”

"Can it wait until I've gotten a couple more hours of sleep? I did not rest well last night." Fenris admitted reluctantly. He didn't want to tell his lovers he'd barely slept due to worry.

Arden exhaled slowly, then nodded. “Hal will come to no harm for staying with us a while longer,” he shrugged. “You two get some sleep; I’ll leave you in peace.”

Anders settled back against the pillows and slipped an arm around Fenris.

The elf curled against Anders and murmured something as he was falling asleep. Anders leaned over the elf.

“Hmm? I didn’t quite catch that, love?” he said quietly.

“Still love you…” Fenris repeated along with a brief squeeze to Anders’ side. Anders’ breath caught in his throat and he stared down at Fenris for a moment before gently reaching down to stroke the elf’s cheek with the back of his fingers. Then he cupped Fenris’ chin and tilted his face towards him. 

Leaning closer, he let his breath ghost over Fenris’ lips as the elf rolled over towards him; Anders was so close they could have kissed, yet he held himself still, his amber eyes searching Fenris’ gaze as though begging permission or waiting for the elf to push him away.

Fenris frowned and gazed back at Anders, confused about his hesitation. When his mage didn’t move, he leaned up to bridge the gap and initiated the slow kissing he’d missed with Anders. His heart still hurt, but for all his rage over the last couple of his days, he didn’t like the absence of the mage at his side.

Anders’ eyes fluttered closed as he let himself to be drawn down, his lips parting as he allowed the elf to take control, moaning breathlessly, needily as the kiss deepened.

Fenris pulled back to catch his breath and looked at his lover. “Sorry, you’re still hurt I shouldn’t…” he mumbled as he tried to calm himself.

Anders’ eyes slowly opened and he stared down at Fenris, a look of faint regret in his eyes. “Still, I wish....” He sighed and lowered himself back onto the bed, staring into Fenris’ face as though he was afraid the elf might vanish if he closed his eyes again. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed.

“I’ve missed you as well, hurt as I am, I still felt an emptiness at my side.” the elf admitted quietly.

Anders let his fingers ghost over the elf’s skin, tracing between the whorls of lyrium as they moved up Fenris’ arm then danced over his collarbone, finally brushing the side of Fenris’ face before threading into the soft white hair. “The worst part of being in that cell wasn’t how sick the magebane made me feel. It was knowing you were somewhere else hurting, because of me,” he said softly. “I’ve... never really handled being alone too well.”

“The bad thing is, I’d gotten used to being alone before Arden, then you. I’d kind of resolved myself to being cast out once you were healed. I know it makes no sense, but my heart and head rarely agree any longer when it comes to the relations between the three of us.” Fenris replied, his eyes started to glimmer but he wasn’t about to give in to another round of tears.

“If you’d left because of me, I don’t think I could have lived with myself,” said Anders. “I’m glad you stayed.” The fingers in Fenris’ hair stroked through the soft locks slowly. 

“Some days I wonder if I should stay. I am no mage, I am a product of the worst the Imperium has to offer, yet… here I remain.” Fenris muttered.

Anders leaned forward and gently rubbed noses with Fenris. “Someone has to keep an eye on this pair of uppity mages and make sure they don’t get too full of themselves,” he teased. “Just imagine the kinds of trouble Arden and I could get into without you around.”

“After what Hal has told me, and what I figured happened to you as well as Arden, I really don’t think wanting to be treated as human counts as being uppity.” Fenris said quietly.

Anders’ eyes widened slightly, his breath hitching. “I love you so much,” he managed to gasp before wrapping his arms around Fenris and burying his face against the elf’s shoulder.

Fenris didn’t reply, he just held on to Anders as he was held in return. After a little while, he felt warm soft lips press a kiss to his collarbone and then Anders began to shift, kissing along his shoulder then up the side of his neck, nipping lightly along Fenris’ jaw.

Fenris allowed Anders to explore as he pleased, his soft noises of pleasure the only sound in the room besides the fire crackling away in the hearth. Anders whimpered slightly as he kissed down Fenris’ throat, then he wriggled down beneath the covers to kiss lower.

“You are not well enough for much more...be mindful of your condition Anders.” Fenris muttered between soft moans and gasps. Anders paused, rubbing his nose gently along the length of Fenris’ cock, and said slowly and distinctly, “Fuck my condition.” Then he took Fenris’ length into his mouth.

Whatever protest Fenris had on his tongue was swallowed along with a yelp at the way Anders mouth felt on him. “Shit...you…” the elf stammered, his eyes closing and his hand drifting down to caress Anders blond hair gently. Anders drew back slowly, swirling his tongue around Fenris’ cock before swallowing it down almost to the base again, lips firm as he hummed deep in his throat.

“You...oh fuck it.” Fenris hissed as he rolled his hips up and gave in to whatever it was Anders was up to. 

Anders chuckled and shifted over to lie between Fenris’ legs, peering up at the elf as his head bobbed up then down again, working the elf’s cock with hands and mouth. He grinned around the mouthful, his lips reddening around the warrior’s flesh.

“Arden’s going to kill us...supposed to be resting.” Fenris muttered before Anders pulled a drawn out moan of his name from his lips. 

Anders lifted his head, letting Fenris’ member slip from his mouth but continuing to pump him with delicious slowness with his hands. “You’re right, I’m supposed to be lying down, aren’t I? he mused. “It would be so much more pleasant with you on top of me though. Or...” He gave a wicked grin. “In me.”

“You couldn’t even stand on your own earlier, are you sure…” Fenris stopped and curled his fingers into claws after a particularly hard, slow upstroke. “...it’s...wi---se!” he yelped as Anders stroked a bit faster with the same wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Are you saying you don’t want to?” asked Anders, pouting a little even as his eyes danced. “You think my hand and my mouth feel good... imagine how good it’ll feel to be inside me.” He lowered his head and swallowed Fenris right down to the base of his cock.

That made Fenris call Anders name and curse him at the same time. “Fucking...desire demon.” he murmured as he opened his eyes to watch Anders swallow him down. “Maker...you’re something else.” he said softly. “Want you, definitely. Don’t want to hurt you.” he moaned with each upward pull on his cock.

Anders pushed himself up onto hands and knees and raised his head. “Then be gentle with me,” he said quietly. Then he reached down and spread his knees a little as he worked a finger into himself, glancing back up to watch fenris’ reaction through a veil of dark blond hair.

“On your back then and pass me the oil.” Fenris muttered with exasperation laced with fondness. “Is this how you plan to get back fully in my good graces? By letting me fuck you after you’ve sucked my cock? After you stare at me with such guilelessness in your eyes?” Fenris said as he slicked two fingers and waited for Anders to move his own digits.

Anders lay down on his back and smiled at Fenris as he held out the oil, spreading his legs as he drew his knees up slightly. “No, it’s how I get fucked,” he grinned. “If it puts me in your good books though, then frankly I’m quite happy to have you fuck me utterly senseless over and over love.”

“You are incorrigible, even when begging for cock.” Fenris muttered as he worked his fingers into the human mage, his gaze locked to Anders for any hint of pain or discomfort. He was going to stop at the first sign it was too much for his lover, no matter what he wanted.

Anders let his head fall back to the pillow with a moan, his fingers curling into the bedding as his back arched slightly off the bed. “Oh Maker... that.” he whimpered. “Please...”

“Please what?” Fenris asked as he added a third finger and twisted on each down stroke. 

Anders writhed under Fenris’ ministrations and whimpered breathlessly. “Please... more... ser,” he managed to gasp.

Fenris pulled his hand free and snarled at the mage underneath him. “No...not that word, not between us, ever, ever again. Am I clear Anders?” 

Anders’ eyes flew open in alarm. “Maker...no, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” he panted, his body stilling as he stared at Fenris. “Please... I won’t say it again, I swear!” There was a look of panic in the amber eyes, as though Anders were terrified that the elf would leave right there and then.

“Let it slip again and I stop and leave the room.” Fenris murmured as he slowly eased fingers back into Anders, his gaze still troubled at that word being uttered. 

Anders was quietly, incoherently babbling, a mixture of “Please” and “Sorry” and Fenris’ name as he clutched at the sheets, body writhing once more as he quivered beneath the elf, begging for more.

“Stop apologizing.” Fenris said as he leaned down to quiet the mage with a kiss. “Now ask me again for what you want.”

Anders returned the kiss hungrily, moaning into Fenris’ mouth before letting his head fall back. “Please... I want to feel you inside me,” he begged.

Fenris leaned back and oiled himself so he wouldn’t hurt his lover, and slowly worked himself into Anders, his forehead rested on the mage’s chest for a moment as he caught his breath and tried to restrain himself and not start rutting hard as he could. Anders had asked for gentle and that’s what he’d give him. 

Anders exhaled on a low cry as he felt the elf enter him then groaned as Fenris fucked him slowly. His fingers clenched into the sheets as he arched his back, little breathless cries escaping his lips with each slow thrust. He canted his hips to meet each upstroke into his body. “More,” he managed to gasp.

“Greedy…” Fenris muttered as he sped his thrusts a bit, angled his hips so he was pulling back almost to the point of withdrawing and then pushing back into Anders in one go. “So wanton, needy...so fucking tight no matter how many times I have you.” 

Anders’ legs were trembling but he only moaned encouragement to the elf. “Please, a little harder,” he breathed. “Need to....” He could feel himself getting close, each thrust pushing him a little closer to the edge.

“Need…or want?” Fenris growled as he went harder, his eyes closed as he just let himself feel each moment with Anders, the way it felt to have Anders heels digging in his back, the way his lover’s hands clenched around his forearms as he thrusted faster, his orgasm creeping up on him as he moved. He could feel the mage’s legs trembling with the strain.

“Need...can’t - can’t- please, so close,” whimpered Anders, his body trembling beneath the elf.

Fenris snapped his hips harder, his strokes going faster until he heard the headboard smacking the wall in time with his thrusts. He opened his eyes so he could watch Anders tip over the edge, his breathing was harsh as he called out curses and pleas with each movement of his hips.

Anders’ body jerked and shuddered as the blond apostate finally came, his seed spilling between their bodies, hot and slick as Anders’ grasp upon Fenris’ forearms weakened. He let his hands fall away as he arched his head back with a hoarse cry.

Fenris groaned at how it felt when Anders tightened around him, his own orgasm close but not quite ...there yet. “So...good.” he moaned. He was so far gone chasing his own climax, he never even heard the bedroom door opening or a low hiss of indrawn breath behind him as Anders groaned softly beneath him.

“Fuck...so… damned close.” Fenris muttered as he leaned down to kiss Anders and thread his fingers with the mages. “Rejuvenate...cast it on me if you can. You know what it does to me.” he moaned in Anders ear. “Please.”

“Can’t,” gasped Anders, his breaths almost sobs. “Magebane, remember? No magic yet.”

A warm hand pressed against the base of Fenris’ spine unexpectedly, and then healing magic flooded into him from the touch, surging up his spine and down to his groin.

The elf’s eyes opened and he glanced to the side with a smile before he pulled Arden over and kissed him through his moaning. “Arden….Anders...love you both so much.” Fenris gasped as he felt the mage’s power race through his markings, and push him over the edge to his pleasure. “Don’t ...stop, please.” he begged even as he slowed his hips and enjoyed the rush of Arden’s power against him.

“You’ve worn Anders out,” murmured Arden, even as he obliged with another surge of magic.

“He...we...oh Maker.” Fenris slumped back as he pulled out of Anders and onto his side. “Sorry...just...just happened.” the elf moaned as he writhed under his lover’s touch. “Been so long since we did this.” he muttered in bliss. 

Arden shook his head and sighed, then curled his hand around Fenris’ cock and let his power flow into the elf even as he began to steadily pump his fist.

That just made Fenris beg wantonly, his hips thrusted into Arden’s grip on him even as he tried to speak clearly. He reached for Arden’s free hand and whined as he felt a second climax starting. “Gonna...come…” he managed.

Arden merely chuckled as his hand moved faster, channelling small bursts of healing energy into Fenris with each downstroke. “I certainly hope so,” he murmured.

The elf arched his back and called out as his second climax hit him, coating Arden’s hand, and his stomach. Fenris sagged against the mattress and murmured praise and thanks to his lovers. 

Arden released him and grimaced slightly at the sticky, cooling mess over his hand before glancing at Anders. The other mage was sprawled on his back, head thrown back, his body shivering slightly and eyes closed. “I can’t leave you two alone for five minutes, can I?” sighed Arden as he got up to go fetch washing water and cloths.

Fenris’ eyes snapped open at the feel of a warm cloth across his stomach. “Fuck...me. Now I remember why I don’t do that often. I feel like someone ran electricity through me.” 

Arden dropped the cloth on Fenris’ stomach and shifted to clean up Anders. The blond apostate didn’t move except to open his eyes briefly then close them again. 

The elf sat up and finished cleaning himself off, a slight grimace at the mess he was between oil, come and sweat. “Arden...I’m not sorry about this. It...was needed I think.” Fenris said quietly as he slipped from the bed to rinse the flannel out and give himself a second pass to be sure he was clean.

“You managed to wear Anders out,” observed Arden as he slipped his arms around the other mage’s torso and bodily hauled him up so he was resting properly with his head on the pillows; Anders was limp in his arms though his eyes briefly opened and closed again.

Fenris looked away slightly guilty. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Anders, but ...it was different, like they had reconnected. Not fixed what was broken, but it was right. “I apologize for that. Go on, I’ll sleep and watch over him.” the elf said as he slid back into bed and curled protectively around the mage.

Anders tried to lift a hand but hadn’t the strength. He rolled his head on the pillow and stared drowsily down at the elf. “Don’... regret it,” he managed quietly.

“Me neither.” Fenris replied before his eyes closed and he started to drift off. Anders’ gentle snores followed him down into sleep.

Arden threw the cloth down into the washbasin and shook his head in exasperation at the two sleeping men then threw his hands up. “Next time I’ll bloody well cast sleep on the two of you,” he threatened, though his gaze was fond. “Honestly, I go out of the room....”

He picked up the washbasin and left the room as the two men slept on.

**

On the other side of reality, Invictus woke up to a sight he’d never thought he’d live to see and tell anyone about. At some point Fenris had shifted and curled around Anders in his deep sleep. He knew the mage wouldn’t stir until the potion wore off, he wasn’t sure about Fenris. He just hoped he was there to see the expression on their faces if they woke up entangled like that. 

He jotted down a note that he’d gone off to see Merrill and that he’d be back by the afternoon. Hopefully one of them would wake and see it, if he didn’t see Bodahn on the way out. Vic strapped his staff to his back, picked up some apples and bread as a peace offering on the way to the Alienage and hoped the Dalish mage would hear him out. 

Merrill had an amiable smile on her face as she opened the door, but it left her face as she stared up at Invictus. “Oh,” she said. “It’s you. I thought it was someone else. What do you want, Hawke?”

Vic handed over the basket of food and gave her a tentative smile. “A white flag, and I would request your knowledge of demons. Seems one has decided I am interesting enough to come after. If you would rather not assist, I will not blame you Merrill.” 

“I hoped it was Anders,” she said slowly. “Figures the only time you come calling on me is when you want something, Hawke.” She couldn’t resist peering into the basket though.

“I know...he had told me the same thing.” Invictus said quietly. “I do not know if you will believe me, but I’ve changed Merrill, hopefully for the better. May I come in and explain what’s happened?” 

She sniffed derisively but stepped back. “You’d better come in,” she said.

Invictus entered and followed behind until she’d put the basket down and turned to face him with an impatient expression. 

“So, when Anders ran after Arden and passed between Kirkwalls, it seems something paid attention. Well, that’s getting ahead of myself...actually when I passed between the two worlds, it seems a demon hitched a ride with me.” He paused and glanced at the ceiling, unsure how to explain what had happened over the last week or so. Finally he took a breath and went on. “Anders came over to look over a mirror that started bleeding, and a Desire, Fear and Despair demon have called upon me, Fenris and Anders over the last few days. Needless to say, we are all tapped out on demonic visitations around the house.”

“They went for Anders?” exclaimed Merrill. “But that shouldn’t be possible - Justice should be able to keep him safe. What happened? is he alright? Maybe I should come....” Merrill glanced around her small house with a distracted look. “What’ll I need... my staff....” She fetched it from the corner then started shrugging into her leather cuirass. “Desire, fear and Despair you say? Tell me exactly what happened.” She turned and fixed him with an intent look. “Every single detail mind - don’t leave anything out.”

Vic had to catch himself before he snapped at her for being so concerned over Anders and not him. He’d never been a friend to her, and once again he was at her door because he needed her, not because he cared. “He is alright for now, he is sleeping at my home and hopefully he will be awake if we return straight away. He can likely explain what I cannot.” Vic sighed and tried to remember that they’d been friends well before their odd truce had happened.

“If you...wish to come with me, I can explain some on the way. I will have lunch prepared so you can speak with Anders at length about what’s going on.” Vic said as he watched her flit around the small space.

She grabbed a small bag and tossed various small items into it plus a book that Invictus was certain he’d seen sitting on Anders’ desk at the clinic once. She buckled the satchel closed then paused to scoop up the basket of food and carried it off into her small meagre kitchen before returning. “I’m ready,” she nodded. “Anders can likely tell me more than you would anyway, you never were much good at dealing with demons apart from killing them.” She sniffed.

Vic bit his lip and headed out towards home. Though he’d swallowed the urge to yell at her, he didn’t need the additional dig either. 

She strode beside him, ignoring his frown, instead quietly babbling something about a grey kitten she’d been trying to make friends with in the market place. It took a while before he realised she’d asked him a question.

“Sorry I was thinking of something else, what did you say?” Vic said with feigned politeness.

“I said, do you think Anders will like it? The kitten?”

“Probably, he likes cats.” Vic replied almost curtly. After her disdain had shown, he regretted asking for the other mage’s help.

“I do hope so, she has the prettiest green eyes. Ooh, just like Fenris!” she suddenly exclaimed, then frowned. “I hope that doesn’t put him off her. Fenris doesn’t like Anders very much, does he?”

Vic kept his mouth shut and shrugged, unable to keep the image of Fenris and Anders cuddled up together before he left out of his head. Merrill shrugged in turn.

“It’s funny really, they’re both so similar in so many ways, they ought to be friends really,” she went on. “Though Fenris doesn’t visit me so much any more. That’s your fault I suppose. Oh look, mangoes!” She darted over to a market table.

Vic growled under his breath, unsure how long his patience was going to last. He called her and tilted his head towards the estate, his expression carefully neutral despite the urge to forget about getting her help. “Demons, mirrors...can we get going?”

“Oh!” She coloured slightly. “Yes, of course.”

Vic walked on, occasionally making sure she hadn’t wandered off again until he got to the house. He headed straight to the kitchen and found Anders and Fenris side by side, eating breakfast and chatting softly. “Hello you two.” he said before Merrill squeezed by him and stopped dead in her tracks at the site of them together.

Anders still looked more than half-asleep, rubbing his eyes blearily as he glanced up; Fenris seemed far more awake.

“Oh, hello, Merrill,” said Anders. The Dalish mage just looked at him speechless for a moment, then reached into her satchel and pushed something small and furry into his hands.

He blinked, confused, and looked down at the small bundle of striped grey fur, and then his eyes lit up and he smiled. “A kitten! Oh what perfect green eyes - where on earth did you find her?” He cradled her under his chin with a small delighted sound as the kitten mewed. “Look, Fenris, her eyes are the same colour as yours!”

Fenris arched a dark eyebrow at the tiny ball of fur then looked at Anders. “So she does, assuming she’s a ...she?” the elf murmured as he glanced at Invictus then at Merrill, unsure why he felt the need to bring her to the house as well.

Vic shook his head behind her and moved to get something to eat. He simply whispered _later_ in the elf’s ear before he motioned towards the buffet. 

“There’s still food left if you wish to eat with us.” Vic murmured before he dug into his food.

Anders was busy being entranced by the kitten which was now butting its head against his chin and mewing imperiously. Merrill gave Anders a delighted smile then helped herself to some food before sitting next to Anders.

“I knew you’d love her!” giggled Merrill. “What will you call her?”

“I... don’t know yet,” admitted Anders. He offered her a little of his bacon and she sniffed it daintily then ate it before climbing up on his shoulder and purring.

Anders grinned soppily at her then at Fenris. “Am I actually awake?” he asked. 

Without missing a beat, Fenris reached up and tugged sharply on Anders ear. “Did you feel that? Then yes, you are awake.” he deadpanned before sopping up the remaining gravy on his plate with a piece of thick wheat bread.

“Ow,” winced Anders, rubbing his ear.

Merrill glanced from Anders to Fenris. “Wait... why is Anders here? Shouldn’t you two be arguing or something?”

The other elf shrugged and looked to Anders to explain. He didn’t care much for her as long as she continued to practice blood magic. Their budding friendship ended the first time he saw her cast using the power from her veins.

“Well... we could, if you really want us to, but I don’t think either of us is in the mood to fight right now, and I’m still half asleep and besides,” he gestured to the sling, “Fenris would have an unfair advantage.” He shrugged. “Kissing and cuddling is more fun anyhow.”

Merrill stared at him open-mouthed in amazement. Anders merely grinned then speared a cube of potato on his fork and popped it into her mouth. She blinked, and he sniggered.

“I’m sorry, your face is a picture,” he chuckled. “Fenris and I don’t hate each other. In fact I’ve grown rather fond of him. It’s... complicated. But it seems we have rather more in common than we’d thought. Of course, my no longer carrying a certain passenger in my head probably helps.”

“You mean Justice?” asked Merrill once she’d swallowed the piece of potato. 

Anders nodded. “When I took my little trip over to Arden’s Kirkwall, the other Anders... well, his Justice took umbrage at mine and lashed out at me. It somehow... absorbed my Justice into itself, and for some reason I’ve yet to fathom, I survived the separation. So no more Justice - for me, at least.”

“So you... and Fenris...?”

Anders nodded, and she sat back in her chair. Then she clapped her hands together. “Oh, this is so _cute_!” she squealed. “Just wait till I tell Varric!”

“Don’t, I’d rather not become fodder for his tall tales. Well more fodder.” Vic said sharply to her. 

Fenris glared at her, his gaze rather hard as he echoed Invictus’ sentiments. “I have already warned Varric about putting me into any of his stories. Also, never refer to me as cute again, at that volume.” the elf said.

“Wait - you too?” exclaimed Merrill, pointing at Anders and Fenris, then at Invictus. “All three of you? How does that even work? Does one of you go in the middle, or do you take it in turns, or-”

“Enough! Enough questions into private affairs Merrill. I believe Invictus asked for your assistance regarding the demon problem, not to gossip.” Fenris snarled as he slammed his fist on the table for emphasis.

Anders jumped and then winced as the instinctive movement inadvertently jogged his wrist and pain licked along his arm. The kitten on his shoulder hissed then climbed down from his shoulder to hide in his sling.

“Oh, I won’t gossip!” said Merrill. “I wouldn’t dream of it! But you must admit it does sound so romantic.” She smiled.

“Stop this foolishness and let’s attend to the business at hand.” Fenris said as he rose and took his plate over to clean. His posture was tense and he glanced at Vic with an annoyed look before he filled the sink and started washing up.

Merrill was distracted by the sight of Anders’ sling. “Oh, you’re hurt!” she exclaimed. “What happened?”

“Broken wrist,” replied Anders. “And what happened is the reason you’re here - not to gossip about our love life. Fenris and I were attacked by a despair demon earlier, I’ve been attacked by three desire demons whilst I slept, and we all had to take down a fear demon that appeared from a broken mirror a few days ago. Something followed Invictus through from Arden’s Kirkwall, and whatever it is, it’s been sending demons after him.”

“Describe them to me - all the attacks,” said Merrill, all her attention on Anders now.

He described each of the attacks in detail, pausing as she asked various questions at different points, going over certain things again. She seemed very interested in the dream Anders had had of Arden in the Eluvian just before the fear demon’s attack.

“Show me the room where you fought the fear demon,” she said.

Vic stood and led her to the foyer, and pointed to where the mirror had cracked and fallen to the floor. If not for the vivid memories of the fight, he would have sworn nothing had happened in the room.

Merrill unslung the staff from her back and prowled around the room, stopping at various points to trace a green glowing glyph upon the floor with the end of her staff, studying each one before moving on. She paused before the fireplace and brushed her hand across the hearthstone then looked at the palm of her hand.

“The Veil is very weak here. More than one thing came through. You say you fought just the one fear demon?” There was no trace of her usual frivolity in her voice or demeanor as she turned and glanced at Invictus.

“Yes, that was more than enough. Why?” Vic said from his place in the doorway. He didn’t want to get near the remains of the mirror.

“Because at least two came through, and if only one attacked you, that means the other one is still around here somewhere.” She frowned. “Fear demons are quite cowardly creatures. They rarely travel alone. It will be lurking around here somewhere, biding its time until one of you presents a tempting enough target.”

“So...there’s still a demon in this house? Just waiting in the wings to make a handy meal out of one of us? Alright then, got it.” Vic turned and went back to the kitchen to ponder what he’d been told and not panic.

Anders glanced up as he entered. “From the look on your face I’m guessing it’s not good news?” he said quietly.

“Not at all, there’s a second fear demon somewhere in this house.” Vic said.

Anders shuddered. “The first one was bad enough,” he said. “Does Merrill have any idea where?”

“I don’t know, I kind of walked off in a daze at the news there’s another demon here.” Vic said quietly.

“It’s not a problem,” said Merrill breezily as she followed Invictus into the kitchen. “There’s no need to go traipsing through the house to find it - I can just call it up and we’ll deal with it.”

“What?” Invictus cried. “Why would you…” 

Fenris skirted around her and stood behind Invictus. “I suppose you’d need to do your filthy craft to accomplish this?” he sneered.

She tilted her head and fixed him with a long-suffering look. “If you mean blood magic, then yes. It would be the fastest and easiest way to bring it out in the open.” She glanced at Invictus and shrugged. “Or you can just wait until it decides which one of you makes the tastiest meal and pounces. It’s up to you.” She eyed the three men and raised an eyebrow.

“Anders is injured, would you call it out when he is not fully well?” Fenris said quietly. 

“Perhaps we can do this in the cellar, where no one else will be hurt if it is brought out. Fenris you don’t have to be there if you don’t want to.” Invictus said before he caught his elven lover’s glare.

“No, you will not be left to be a meal for this creature, I will be at your side. Anders should remain away from this...summoning.” Fenris snarled.

“We don’t need Anders,” said Merrill. “Do you mean to tell me Hawke that you don’t think you, Fenris and I can take one little fear demon down by ourselves?”

“I’m not a helpless cripple you know,” Anders said quietly. “I do still have one good hand.”

Hawke sneered at her as he rose. “Do not insult your friend, nor mine by such words. You weren’t here when we faced it Merrill. That whole room was destroyed by the fight and there were three of us. Do not downplay the danger of demons because you rely on blood magic where we do not.” 

“Actually the room getting destroyed was probably -” began Anders in a low voice but fell silent as Fenris caught his eye and gave a slight shake of his head.

“The sooner we confront it the sooner it will be over,” argued Merrill. “The longer we stand here talking about it, the more chance we give it to prey on one of us and build its strength - or draw other demons to it for reinforcement. Which would you rather face - one fear demon or several?”

Vic threw up his hands and muttered something utterly rude in Tevene as he headed for the stairs. “I’ll be back I need my staff.” 

Anders stared down at his good right hand and wiggled his fingers experimentally. It had been a long time since he’d had to cast one-handed with no staff to channel his magic, but he’d been fairly good at it once. He still remembered the slight variations of gestures needed for one-handed casting. He glanced up at Fenris. “I’m not as useless as you might think me, even with one arm in a sling. You might need healing down there, and there are protection spells I can cast even without a staff.”

“Fine, I’ll get my sword and put on proper armor for this.” Fenris headed upstairs as well to put on his Spirit Hide and get the Blade of Mercy that Hawke had gifted him with before they became a focal point for demons. He turned to Vic and gave him a tight smile. “Once the demon is gone, she goes too.” 

“Agreed.” Vic muttered before he leaned in and kissed the elven fighter. “For luck.”

Downstairs in the kitchen, Merrill watched as Anders carefully retrieved the kitten from his sling and deposited her on a pile of tea towels Bodahn had neglected to put away.

“You’re not Ser Pounce-a-lot, little one, and you’re a bit young for swatting demons on the nose,” he told the diminutive creature fondly. She mewed up at him and tried to pat his face with a paw. He laughed. “Maybe next time, if you’re good.”

Fenris entered the kitchen and quirked a lip at the way Anders spoke to the kitten. “Perhaps you should give her to Bodahn to care for until we are done. She is small and would slip out easily.” 

“I think she’ll stay put here in the kitchen,” said Anders as he rubbed the little creature’s head just behind her ears. “Won’t you?” 

Vic arched an eyebrow at the other mage. “She doesn’t speak Trade, I doubt she’s that well trained. Also, Malum might not realize she’s not a snack.” 

Anders stared down at the little kitten and sighed. “You’re right. Wait a moment.” He scooped up the little kitten and went in search of Bodahn, returning a little later empty-handed and brushing a light dusting of soft grey hairs off the front of his shirt. “Are we ready then?” he asked.

“Yes.” Vic and Fenris said in tandem before Invictus led them down into the cellar and the wide open space that had been cleared a few weeks before. “Will this do?” 

Merrill glanced around, then nodded as she walked out into the middle of the cellar. “Get ready,” she warned them as she drew a small knife.

Anders hastily gestured, and Invictus and Fenris felt a light tingle across their skin as he cast protection spells on them both. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” said Anders, glancing to the other two.

“Let’s be done with this.” Fenris said and Vic merely nodded his head and drew his staff.

Merrill nodded. Even as her knife hand jerked and the pale skin of her forearm sliced open with a fine mist of crimson, Anders wanted to run forward and stop her. A low, horrified “No!” escaped his lips with a gasp, but it was too late. The scarlet droplets hung in the air like scattered rubies, and then began to swirl as Merrill stepped back. 

“It’s coming!” she cried as the air was filled with the sound of a rushing wind and the stench of brimstone assaulted their nostrils.

Fenris saw Danarius take shape from the cloud of blood. His thin lips peeled back from his teeth and he smiled.

“We meet again, my little wolf,” he purred.

“You’re dead and rotting Danarius. Be gone.” Fenris hissed, the white knuckle grip on his sword hilt belied his bravado. 

Leandra’s dead eyes regarded Invictus with malice. “You failed me, son of mine.” She took a step toward him, lifting an arm to crook a finger at him. “What, no kiss of greeting for your mother?”

Unlike Fenris, Invictus was pulled into the creatures illusion easily. The grip on his staff wavered and he whimpered. “Mother…” he whispered even as he headed towards the ghoulish version of Leandra’s last moments.

Fenris called to him but it was no good, his lover was firmly in the demon’s grasp and it had no intention of letting him go. “Fight it, Vic you know it’s not real.” 

Leandra’s mouth widened in a ghastly grin. “You have missed me, haven’t you Invictus?” she crooned. “You have been lost without me. Would you let this elf tear me from your side once more?”

To the other side of Invictus, Anders was shaking his head. “No, no, it’s not real. You’re dead. I watched you die. You can’t be real.”

Danarius smiled at Fenris. “You cannot slay me, my wolf; how foolish to think such things. I will always be your master.”

Fenris laughed, the sound more mad and hysterical than mirthful. “I wrenched your heart from your chest myself, you are no one’s master. Begone creature, ply your wares elsewhere.” Fenris brought his sword down through the apparition, cleaving it in half with a snarl. 

Leandra screamed in agony. “Help me, Invictus!” she begged. “He’s killing me!”

“Mother… no, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” Vic said as he loosed a bolt of arcane power at Quentin, or who he saw as Quentin. 

Fenris was thrown off his feet by the bolt that slammed into his chest plate. He went down hard and screaming in pain as his chestplate cracked from the impact. “Vic...no, she’s not real! Invictus, let her go. It’s using you, please.” the elf’s voice tapered off as he dropped to his knees and elbows, blood pooling beneath him from where the jagged edge of the torn metal had ripped his chest open.

“Hawke, it’s not real!” yelled Merrill as she darted in and gestured, vines springing up from the floor to pin the demon in place. “Wake up!”

Anders pulled himself together enough to press his hand to his forehead, focusing on the words he needed before unleashing a spirit blast. “Not real, not real, not real,” he chanted to himself as he staggered toward Fenris.

Vic shook his head, the vision of Leandra doubling over vines and...the same gaping maw they’d faced before. “Mother...no, not ...not mother.” he rasped as he called forth Fist of the Maker to take his rage out on the creature. 

Anders dropped to his knees beside Fenris, reaching toward him with his good hand. He groaned when he saw the blood spreading slowly from beneath the elf. “Not good,” he muttered. Closing his eyes, he called on his healing magic and poured it into the elf, feeling and sensing his way through the warrior’s body to direct white blood cells to ward off infection as he drew ripped and torn flesh back together, repairing veins, weaving the brokenness back into wholeness.

Merrill gestured and a fist of stone struck the demon seconds after Invictus unleashed his spell, and the demon screamed and then suddenly exploded in a violent expelling of blood and flesh.

Vic wiped dark blood off his face and gagged at the splashes of gore that surrounded them. “I hate demons, I hate the Fade, I even hate magic right now.” he said tiredly before he turned to see Fenris far too still on the ground and Anders hovering over him. 

He ran over and slid to his knees, hands stopping short of his touching his lover. “Anders?” he queried, worried the blond would tell him the one thing that would send him spiraling out of control again.

“Hush,” gasped Anders, his eyes closed as he concentrated on repairing the damage done to the elf. He could feel the elf’s heart faltering and gritted his teeth as he reached further within, reaching for more power to repair the damaged form before him. “Don’t you dare give up on me you stupid stubborn elf,” he muttered. “Don’t you dare.” 

Vic stumbled back, the only thing he could do was watch as his lovers life hung in the balance as Anders worked. He closed his eyes and begged whatever deity was there to spare Fenris, to not cut his life shorter in defense of his. 

Anders felt his power growing weaker, draining away into the still form of Fenris, and it still wasn’t enough. “No,” he breathed. He’d been here before. Given his all and it wasn’t enough. That time it had been a dream, but this was real; the stench of blood all too real as it hung heavy in the air.

He reached farther inside. The blue glow around his hands changed to a silvery white as he hunched over Fenris, pouring life energy into the elf.

And Fenris breathed.

Vic came over and reached out a shaking hand to Fenris’ neck to feel the faint pulse under his fingertips. He looked up just in time to see Anders fall into Merrill’s arms, a faint smile on his face at having pulled off what should have been impossible. “Sleep now.”

Merrill stared down at the unconscious mage. “Did he just do what I think he did?” she whispered.

“Yeah...I think he did.” Vic said quietly as he kept touching Fenris’ face and neck to be sure it wasn’t a cruel joke, that the elf still lived. “We can’t move him yet, and I’m scared to remove what’s left of his breastplate.” 

“I can’t carry Anders by myself, he’s too tall and heavy,” replied Merrill. “I guess... we wait here?”

“I’m not leaving Fenris’ side. Go get Bodahn, he can help you with Anders and maybe he can help me. Is he healed enough to move?” Vic said shakily, his hands trembled with every touch to his lover as he watched the slow rise and fall of his chest as if he would stop the moment he looked away.

Merrill carefully lay Anders down, brushing blood-soaked hair back out of the unconscious man’s face, then glanced at Fenris. “I can’t tell,” she admitted. “I’m not a healer. I’ll fetch Bodahn.” She leapt to her feet and sped up the stairs, leaving Invictus alone with two unconscious men in a room full of blood.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Invictus' Kirkwall Fenris owes Anders a life debt; on the other side of reality Arden and Fenris walk into a trap, Varric's rooms get remodelled - and Anders redecorates the bedroom back home. Blood red is so the in colour this season in Kirkwall; soon all the most fashionable places will be wearing it....

Time seemed to crawl for Vic as he sat there with Fenris’ hand in his, thumb rubbing slowly over the back of the elf’s hand. He was too still, too pale and barely breathing. As he watched Fenris, he thought of how the demon had used his mother’s death as a way to snare him. It was one of the things that ate at him, made him weep late at night. Of all the things he’d failed in, that was the one that still crushed his heart.

Vic blinked back tears as he started to talk to Fenris, something to break the oppressive silent vigil he kept over his lover and Anders. He glanced over to see Anders was still as death, but the rise and fall of his chest showed he was still with them. His attention went back to the elf stretched out besides him, he’d finally removed the rent chestplate, and now he could see the damage the sheared metal and his own power had caused. It hadn’t been Quentin that threatened Leandra, it was Fenris, likely fighting off his own illusion, if not of Danarius then likely Hadriana or the Fog Warriors he’d slain on the magisters command. Invictus spoke of trivial things, things he wanted to do once their nightmare was over and they could resume their lives.

The holiday they’d take, get out of Kirkwall for a while perhaps. Or maybe go back to Ferelden, leave it all behind them. Wealth, power, all of it meant nothing if he’d had to face it without the warrior at his side. Soon, exhaustion picked at Invictus and he fully laid out next to his lover, hand resting gently on the elf’s stomach so he could feel him before he fell asleep. 

It was in that position that Aveline, Sebastian, Merrill and a couple of guards found the Champion, his lover and the wounded Healer several hours later. 

Vic rolled to his feet with magic blazing and dream fueled fear making him irrational to the rough shake Aveline had given him to get him to come around. 

“Invictus Hawke, we’re here to help you, calm yourself.” Aveline said gently, like she was talking to a wild mabari not a man. “Merrill came and got us and it took a while to gather up help. Calm down.”

Vic let the power pooled in his hands dissipate. “Sorry, I was deep in a very bad dream. How long have I been asleep?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and worry.

“From what Merrill told me, nearly eight, nine hours. It’s dawn now, I think we startled your servants half to death by banging on the doors.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” he said before he turned to see Sebastian and a guard easing Fenris to a stretcher. “I’ll take him, you help with Anders ser Guard...thank you.” the Champion didn’t look to see the expression their faces as he moved to take the guard’s place.

Vic took the two poles by Fenris’ feet and helped Sebastian carry him to the second level to get him cleaned up and put to bed. He didn’t look at the rogue nobleman as they put the stretcher down in the bathing chamber and he started the water going. It wasn’t until he was faced with getting Fenris stripped, into the tub and back out that he realized it might take two people.

“Sebastian, will you help me, please?” he said softly while he knelt to undo the remaining toggles on the elf’s vest.

Without a word, Sebastian knelt on the other side of the unconscious elf and began removing his armour, his fingers more used to wrestling with the buckles and clasps of armour than Invictus.

“Thank you.” the mage said quietly as they got Fenris undressed, he rose and stripped off to his smallclothes then gestured for Sebastian to help him maneuver Fenris in with him. “Be gentle, he...he was hurt pretty badly.” 

Sebastian nodded as he started unbuckling his white-enamelled armour, piling the pieces neatly before stripping off the padded leather jerkin beneath and his shirt before bending to help Invictus lift the unconscious elf into the steaming water.

“May I ask what happened?” the archer asked gently, his lilting brogue soft. He regarded the mage with sympathetic blue eyes; whatever had happened in the cellar had obviously unnerved the Champion in a way he’d never seen before.

Vic was quiet as he bathed Fenris, his attention on cleaning the blood from his hair until it was snow white once more. Finally he glanced at Sebastian before he spoke quietly, his voice rough and stilted as he recounted the horrors unleashed on them by the Fear demon, and what he’d done to his lover; sure he was felling Quentin not the elf. Once he was done, he turned his attention to Fenris’ hands, cleaning the dirt and blood from his nails because he knew how obsessive his warrior was about cleanliness and it would bother him upon awakening.

“Sounds like it was very fortunate Anders was with you,” remarked Sebastian. “He may be a lawless apostate but he’s the most skilled healer I’ve ever seen.” He glanced up at Invictus. “However I know you and he have rarely seen eye-to-eye, Hawke. Why was Anders down there with you both? He looked as though he’d been hurt recently - his arm?”

“Can ...I explain later? I...I would like to finish tending to Fenris.” Vic deflected as he touched the elf’s neck again for his pulse. It was there, stronger than before but still too faint for his liking. 

Sebastian inclined his head in acquiescence. “My apologies, I did not mean to pry, Hawke.” He glanced down at the elf. “Perhaps we should get him out of this water and dried off.”

Invictus simply nodded and stood up with Fenris in his arms. With Sebastian’s help he got the elf dried off and carried to bed. Once the elf was tucked in, he sat there and held his hands, wishing that he’d open his eyes, just a little.

Sebastian returned to the bathing chamber to retrieve and don his armour once more. He was still fastening a buckle on a vambrace as he walked back towards the bedroom but paused on the threshold, cocking an ear to the sounds of what seemed to be an altercation below. “That... does not sound good,” the archer remarked.

“Can you see what’s going on? I...don’t want to leave him.” Invictus replied. Sebastian nodded and departed downstairs.

He followed the sounds of shouting to find Anders cornered on the stairs to the cellar between Aveline on one side and the guards on the other. He crouched, eyes wild, a ball of flame balanced upon his upturned hand as he stared down at the guards then up at Aveline. He spotted Sebastian at the top of the stairs and gave a small whimper of despair before his lips curled in a snarl.

“You’re not taking me back! You’re not taking me to the Gallows, you hear me? Keep back or I’ll burn you all, Maker take you!”

Aveline waved her guards back and held her hands up to show she had no intent to take him anywhere but upstairs. “Anders...you need to calm down and listen to me. Merrill came and got us, do you remember what happened here? You and Fenris were out cold when we arrived, I brought guards in case more hands were needed. No one is trying to take you to the Gallows, I swear it.” 

Anders laughed, a harsh, desperate sound. “You expect me to believe you? You’ve been looking for an excuse to take me in for years, don’t deny it!” He lifted his flame-wreathed hand threateningly as Sebastian took a step forward. “Why else would he be here? You’ve been dying for this moment, haven’t you, Sebastian!” He panted as he glared at them then stared back over his shoulder at the guards.

Sebastian stopped his advance and held his hands well away from his bow and dagger. “Anders, I am not your enemy. Do you not remember what brought you here to Hawke’s cellar? Healing Fenris, or the demon she told us about? Calm yourself, no one is trying to take you anywhere. I’m sure Invictus would not take kindly to it, after you saved his lover.” 

Aveline glanced at Merrill, almost urging her to speak to her fellow mage as well. They weren’t making a difference to him despite their words.

“Listen to them, Anders. They mean you no harm. Please, let us help you - you’re hurt.” Merrill’s eyes held no guile, only concern for the blond apostate.

“I...I...” Anders faltered, the flames dying away as he dropped his hand. “I remember....” He slumped against the wall, clutching at his injured arm through the sling and groaning as he slid down to sit upon the stair, hunched over. “Fenris. Is he...?”

“He is still unconscious but he yet lives. Invictus said you are the reason he is still with us.” Sebastian replied as he approached cautiously. 

Aveline signaled to her guards to head upstairs. “I think you all can take things from here, I’ll be at the Keep if you require anything else. Tell Hawke I’ll be by to check on him in a couple of days.” she nodded at them, her gaze troubled as it fell on Sebastian.

Anders shrank back against the wall as the guards made their way past him, darting him nervous looks. Merrill followed after them then dropped to a crouch to put her arm around Anders.

“So tired,” he murmured as he leaned against her.

“Let’s get you upstairs,” she suggested quietly. She glanced up at Sebastian.

“Will you allow me to help you? Invictus, understandably, does not wish to leave Fenris’ side.” Sebastian spoke slowly, and approached the mage cautiously. While he had his own issues with the man, he couldn’t deny his worth as a healer.

Anders laughed hollowly. “I don’t think I could stop you,” he admitted. He lifted his good hand and a dancing flickering flame appeared briefly then winked out. “Not enough mana to do more than put on a show,” he sighed. He glanced up at Sebastian. “I need to see Fenris myself and see he’s alright,” he said quietly. “Please take me to him?”

“Of course.” Sebastian helped him up the stairs slowly, with Merrill bringing up the rear until they reached the Champion’s rooms. “Invictus, Anders wanted to check on Fenris, can we come in?”

“Yes.” he replied without looking up or releasing the elf’s paled hand.

Cradling his injured arm and grimacing at the pain, Anders pulled away from Sebastian and Merrill to make his way around the bed to stare down at the unconscious elf. He reached out and laid his hand over Fenris’ brow and bowed his head as he closed his eyes. After a moment, he stepped back with a tired sigh. “He is healing,” he said. 

“He’ll sleep for a few more hours yet. He’ll need a healing potion when he awakens; I doubt I’ll have enough mana to work on him again until I’ve slept and I’m properly rested, but a potion will do until then. The danger is passed - now it’s up to him.” His head dropped and he swayed slightly.

Sebastian reached to catch him before he landed on the ground. “Is there somewhere you can rest here?”

Anders gritted his teeth against the pain in his arm. Somehow, at some point his arm had been jarred and now it was hard to think through the sharp pains that radiated from his wrist, but he nodded toward the door. “Guest room. Two doors down,” he managed to gasp.

“Sebastian, stay with Fenris, I’ll take Anders.” Vic said as he rose and planted a soft kiss on the elf’s forehead then picked up the other mage as if he weighed nothing. “Going to feed you more often, you’re too damned light.” he muttered as he kicked the door open and set Anders on the bed.

“If you have any spare healing potions I could really use one right now,” muttered Anders. “I’m completely out of power and I daren’t take more lyrium just yet.” He let his head drop back against the white pillow, oblivious to the streaks of blood in his hair that smeared across the white cotton.

“Of course, and perhaps when you are recovered, you can wash the blood out of your hair and clothes. I don’t give a nugs ass about the bedding, just relax.” Vic said as he went back to his room and dug out some potions for the blond. He returned with three healing potions and a stamina potion, one of the red-filled bottles already uncorked and held out for Anders to take.

Anders had wiped a hand down his face and was staring with distaste at the drying blood that covered his palm. “Demon blood, how... delightful,” he muttered. “Almost as delightful as darkspawn blood.” He wiped his hand on his coat then took the potion, knocking it back and swallowing until the flask was empty. He closed his eyes with a grateful sigh as he felt the warm, soothing, tingling feeling of the potion setting to work. He opened his eyes slowly.

“Don’t blame yourself for what happened,” he said. “That fear demon was far stronger than the first one we faced. It was smarter; it was able to take our deepest fears and throw them at us. I’m glad you managed to snap out of it in time.”

“Not fast enough, I killed him and if you hadn’t been here I would be planning his funeral now.” Vic said bitterly.

“No,” said Anders shaking his head. “I’m good, but I can’t bring back the dead. He was mortally wounded, yes - but his spirit hadn’t fled his body. If it had, nothing in the world could have brought him back.” He closed his eyes. “I was scared I was going to lose him - that even if I gave everything I had, it wouldn’t be enough. I just... I had to give him my all.”

Vic wiped at the tears that threatened to spill over. “His heart had stopped! That’s dead as far as I’m concerned Anders. I felt it...I...I owe you a debt that can never be repaid, name it and it’s yours.” the Champion looked away, discomfited at how he was falling to pieces.

“Invictus,” said Anders quietly. “I’m a spirit healer. It’s more than what I do, it’s what I am. Healing him... that’s what I exist for. I can touch the life force of another and keep it present to heal a body; I can tap into my own life essence to heal another if need be. But once that spirit has fled, then that’s dead. Anything else up to that is just a matter of pulling the body together. Fenris wasn’t dead. Dying, yes. But not dead.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “So tired now.”

“Get some rest, ring the bell and Orana or Bodahn will come up and attend you. I’ll be with Fenris if you need anything else.” Vic left the room and returned to get potions and other things ready for whenever Fenris awoke. 

“Thank you both for your help, but if you don’t mind I would like to be alone until Fenris is awake and able to ...receive visitors.” Invictus said as he set a few healing potions, and an improved healing potion on the side table.

Sebastian rose and gently shepherded Merrill along with him. “Of course Hawke, please send word to the Chantry should you need anything else. I will be by in a few days if it’s alright.” 

“Check first, if Fenris is still on the mend, I’d like to keep visitors to a minimum.” Vic gave them both a wan smile before he shut the door and stripped out of house robe and wet smallclothes before pulling on pants and crawling into bed next to his lover. He had no plan to leave his side until he was awake once more. 

Invictus held his elven lover’s hand until he fell asleep, not to be awakened until a hoarse calling of his name pulled him from slumber.

“Invictus,” rasped Fenris again. 

“Huh… Fenris, you’re awake! Oh thank the Maker.” Vic said as he squeezed his lover’s hand briefly then turned to get him water and a healing potion. “Can you drink this by yourself, or do you need help?” 

Fenris struggled to sit up but clutched at his chest and fell back with a grimace of pain. “I... think I need help,” the elf admitted reluctantly. “What happened? I was sure I was dead.”

Vic wrapped an arm around the elf and helped him sit up so he could drink the water slowly. Once he was done, he handed him a potion, not moving until it was emptied. “You...you might as well have been but Anders saved you. I’m so sorry love, I saw ...I saw you as Quentin and the demon got to me.” the Champion laid Fenris back so he was sitting against the headboard and he kept a hand on the elf as he spoke. 

Fenris merely grunted. “I saw Danarius,” he said slowly. “I do not think it had the effect the demon hoped for; rather than fear, I felt only rage. I lost my fear of that monster the day I took his heart.” The elf frowned slightly. “What did Anders see, I wonder?” He glanced to Invictus, and his expression softened. “Do not blame yourself, beloved,” he said quietly as he reached up a hand to stroke the side of Invictus’ face. “The demon was far stronger than we anticipated. And you have much cause to lash out at anything that resembled your mother’s killer. I knew even as your spell struck me that you could not have been in your right mind.”

Invictus laid his head on Fenris’ lap and twined his fingers with the elf’s. “It doesn’t matter, my own heart nearly stopped as I watched you go still, felt it in my soul as you fought to live. No matter what Anders says, I saw him bring you back to me and I can never repay that debt. You’re still here, and awake and talking, everything else can sod right off.” 

Fenris gently stroked Invictus’ hair with his free hand as he squeezed the mage’s hand soothingly. “I remember pain, and feeling very tired - and then a sense of peace, surrounded by white light before darkness took me. It was... different from Anders’ usual healing magic. What did he do?”

“I think he tapped into his own life force when his mana ran out. I’ve heard it’s something Spirit Healers can do. He’s in the guest room down the hall, he was tapped entirely out and from the noise I heard downstairs, he was confused when he came around to Aveline, Guards, Sebastian and Merrill rather than us.” Vic kept his gaze on the warrior, almost afraid to blink in case he wasn’t going to be there between one breath and the next.

“Then I owe him a debt I fear I can never repay,” said the elf contemplatively. He glanced down at Invictus. “I wish to see him,” he said quietly. “Will you help me rise? I do not trust my strength at present; I feel weak as a kitten.”

“Are you sure you wish to get out of bed so soon love? I ...would not have you overtax yourself.” Vic said worriedly.

“Then perhaps you would bring him in here?” suggested Fenris. “I wish to reassure myself he has not suffered unduly for his unselfish act.”

“As you wish, just… stay here, please.” Invictus said, then handed the elf another healing potion and glass of water. He kissed Fenris, gently and reverently before he slipped out of the room and down to the guest bedroom. He knocked first, just in case Anders was washing up or still asleep. 

“Anders?”

There was a muffled sound from the other side of the door, a faint groan, and then Anders’ voice.

“I’m awake, Hawke.”

Vic entered and gave him a genuine grin. “Sorry, but Fenris is awake and he asked to see you for himself. I’ll have Bodahn attend the room while we talk, I see you already washed up.” 

“As much as I can one-handed,” agreed Anders. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling his arm through the sling, face drawn and pale. “Give me a moment; I haven’t recovered fully from healing Fenris.” He dropped his head and ran his good hand slowly through his damp hair. After a moment, he pushed himself up to standing and lifted his head to glance at Invictus. “When this is all over, I’m going to sleep for a month, I swear.”

“You can rest here whenever you want Anders, and anything you need you just have to ask.” Vic said as he offered his shoulder for support. Anders draped his good arm around Invictus’ neck and leaned into the support gratefully.

“Right now, I’ll settle for seeing Fenris is doing alright, and then a few more hours’ rest. As soon as I recover enough mana I need to do something about my wrist; I can barely think straight right now.”

“Anything you need, I can get it for you. I’ll make sure you have something to wear after you’ve rested up. New staff, anything.” Vic said as they made their way down the hall and into his room. “See, he’s kind of alright.”

Fenris gave them a smile of welcome that changed to a look of concern when he saw how pale and weak Anders appeared. “You are in pain,” he observed.

“Thank you, I hadn’t noticed,” responded Anders with a grimace. Fenris raised an eyebrow, and Anders shook his head. “Don’t mind me, I’m just exhausted,” he apologised.

“Invictus, let him lie on the bed before he falls over,” suggested the elf.

“Of course, sorry Anders.” Vic helped him lay on his back and offered the blond mage another healing potion. “Here, unless you need me to help you with it too.” 

Anders managed to drag himself up into a sitting position and merely glared at Invictus as he accepted the potion and drank it down. The effect was ruined by the way his eyes rolled back into his head as he swooned; Fenris managed to grab him before his head could hit the wooden headboard.

“‘mm alright, jus... gimme a minute here,” murmured Anders. Fenris glanced at Invictus.

“No you’re not.” Vic held him up just as he had done for his lover a few moments earlier. “Open up and don’t fight me. You will not hurt yourself further.” the brunet apostate said with a touch of fond annoyance.

“No fair,” protested Anders weakly. “Bully.” But he opened his mouth obediently and drank the potion.

“Not anymore Anders...not anymore.” Vic said softly as he helped his friend with the potion, then laid him down. Anders reached out his good hand to touch Fenris and his brow furrowed in concentration, then he let his hand fall. 

“You’re healing well,” he said tiredly to Fenris. “Take it easy for the next few days. You should be back swinging that stupidly-big sword and hacking down slavers again within a week.”

“I have a feeling Invictus won’t let me out of his sight for a while, and I won’t get a choice in the matter.” Fenris said softly. “Go to sleep, you should not move either, not until you’re rested.” the elf said as he leaned over and kissed the mage’s forehead. “Thank you for saving me.”

Anders stared up at the elf then slowly smiled. “Not fair,” he breathed. “Now you’re both ganging up on me.” He closed his eyes and fell fast asleep.

“Not anymore.” Fenris said in a mimicry of Vic’s own words earlier. He glanced up at Vic and smiled. “You should sleep as well, we can talk later.” 

“I could use a nap, I’ve hardly slept well since last night. I’ll be back after I get us both some soup and bread. You could use something in your stomach before we sleep.” Vic kissed him again and left quickly to inform Bodahn that Fenris was conscious and hungry. He even took the tiny grey kitten back with him.

Vic offered the bowl to Fenris and some bread before he deposited the cat on Anders chest, and smiled at how it burrowed against him with a purr and relaxed on the blond’s chest.

He ate his own meal quickly, and once Fenris was done he left the tray out, put Malum in the hallway and shut the door. Everyone was relatively well, and for now there was one less demon in the world. “Rest well love.” 

“You too, wake me in a few hours for another potion.” Fenris murmured before he settled on his back and and closed his eyes again.

**

Arden eyed Fenris. “So, did you two actually sleep properly this time?” he asked sceptically.

“Yes, we actually slept.” Fenris muttered. Anders raised his head briefly from beneath the covers to look around blearily before dropping his head back to the pillow with a faint grunt. Arden raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that for? We actually slept Arden. He’s just tired but I am rested enough to go with you.” Fenris said as he dragged himself from bed reluctantly.

Arden rolled his eyes, but chuckled quietly as he made his way to the wardrobe to pick out a change of clothes. The silk robe was fine in the house but he preferred something more practical for Lowtown’s streets.

“A messenger came from Varric whilst you two were asleep,” he said conversationally. “Apparently Hal’s father had contacted him and asked for a meeting. Varric suggested his rooms for convenience.”

“True enough, will we bring his father back here then?” Fenris asked as he pulled his armor on then snuck in a kiss to Arden’s cheek.

“I’m not sure. It seems strange that Hal’s father would contact Varric and not myself directly. Varric offered to host when he said he preferred not to come to the estate.” Arden pulled out a leather jerkin and a sleeveless black robe of heavy twill, frowning. “It may be he just doesn’t want to attract unwanted attention.”

“Or perhaps it’s a trap,” remarked Anders, his voice muffled by the down comforter.

“It could be, which is part of why I insisted on going with you love.” Fenris agreed as he pulled his scabbard on and clipped his gauntlets to his belt. 

Arden paused, fingering the black robe, then shoved it back into the wardrobe and started to pull out his Champion’s armour. He glanced at Fenris. “Best make an impression then. I’ll need your help, love; I can never figure out the buckles on these things.”

Fenris nodded and helped Arden into his gear, tugging each strap to be sure it was secure. “There, you look good in it despite how you feel about it.” 

Arden rolled his shoulders, grimacing at the weight of the unfamiliar armour. “I have no idea how Invictus can be so comfortable in this stuff. It weighs a ton.” He reached for his staff and slung it on his back then made his way over to the bed. 

Anders pushed himself up into a sitting position. “You look very intimidating, love,” he smiled as Arden bent down very carefully to kiss him goodbye.

Once Arden moved aside, Fenris gave Anders another farewell kiss. His gaze fond as he stood up. “Rest well beloved.”

“I wish I were coming with you,” Anders sighed. “If something goes wrong you might need a healer. You both have healing potions on you?”

Arden nodded. “I may not be quite as talented as you love, but I should be able to patch us up if anything goes wrong, at least until the magebane wears off and you’re back to full power. Right now, much as I hate to say it, you’d be a liability love.” He smiled sadly to take the sting out of his words, but Anders’ shoulders slumped nonetheless.

“I know,” he admitted. “Just... look after each other and come back safely, please?”

“Always, we will be fine Anders.” Fenris said softly before he went to the door. 

Hal was waiting for them in the foyer. He was wearing a muted grey robe that Fenris recognised as being one of Arden’s, under a long dark cloak. The hood was pulled up and hung low enough in front to obscure the flaming sun brand on his forehead.

“Ready?” asked Arden as he pulled on his gauntlets.

“Yes, hopefully this will be quick and relatively painless.” Fenris said as he glanced at the red headed Tranquil, his worry about a trap at the front of his mind.

The journey to Lowtown was uneventful; people did double-takes at sight of Arden in his Champion’s armour then drew back out of their way. At least two groups of ruffians seemed to have second thoughts about approaching the trio as they headed for the Hanged Man.

The tavern was fairly quiet for the time of day, and Arden exchanged a glance with Fenris before they headed upstairs to Varric’s rooms.

“Too quiet,” murmured Arden as they approached Varric’s rooms.

Fenris drew his sword and motioned for Arden to keep Hal back as he nudged at the dwarf’s door.

Varric glanced up as they entered, his welcoming smile disappearing as he noted the drawn blade. “Trouble, Broody?” he asked. The three men sat at the table stood and moved back as the elf entered, followed by Arden, Hal bringing up the rear.

“Merely being cautious, it is unusual that you asked to meet here rather than come to the estate. Also, it’s quiet for this time of day.” Fenris said as he left his sword remain drawn. 

Arden glanced to Hal’s father. “I didn’t know you were bringing company?” he said. The man spread his hands.

“These are troubled times, Champion. A man does well to keep trusted company about him - much as you do, messere.” He glanced from Arden to Fenris, frowning slightly. “The Healer isn’t with you?”

“Not today,” replied Arden. “But instead I’ve brought your son.” He waved Hal forward, and the Tranquil mage lowered the hood of the cloak.

“Hello, son,” said his father with a nervous smile.

Hal turned to Arden and Fenris. “I do not know this man. He is not my father.”

“Hal, what do you mean he’s not your father?” Fenris asked warily.

“The lad’s obviously confused,” said the man, laughing uncomfortably as he moved around the table. “It’s been so many years, perhaps the Rite affected his memory....”

Hal stepped back as the man reached for him. “My memory was not impaired by the Rite,” he said flatly. “I do not know this man. I have never seen him before in my life.”

Varric stepped back, his hand going to Bianca as the other two men suddenly produced swords.

Fenris yanked Hal behind him and lit his brands. “Shield, now Arden.” he growled. Arden gestured, and the elven warrior and Varric both felt the familiar tingle of shielding spells as a slight tightening over their skin before Arden hurled an ice blast towards the three men.

“There are others coming up the stairs,” called Hal.

“Give them a cold greeting, I’ve got these two.” Fenris said before he took one man’s head off and was robbed of his other kill by Bianca. “Kill stealer.” he said fondly before turning towards the door.

Arden gestured and the stairwell was filled with ice. There was the thrum of crossbow fire from the common room below. 

“Down!” ordered Arden as he ducked; Hal cried out and crumpled to the ground, clutching his left shoulder.

“Move Arden, tend to Hal.” Fenris said as he vaulted over his lover and slid down the stairs to take out the crossbow shooter. “Varric, put Bianca to work.”

“Right behind you, Broody,” called Varric, barrelling through as Arden threw himself towards the Tranquil mage who had curled his fingers around the shaft of the crossbow bolt that had pierced his shoulder.

“I am hurt,” Hal said faintly as Arden reached for the bolt; the Tranquil mage’s face bore a grimace of pain.

Varric took down three men as Fenris leapt toward the second group of four men who rushed him all at once.

“Where are they coming from?” Fenris huffed as he ghosted through another pair of men that seemed to come from thin air.

“No idea,” grunted Varric as he picked off another swordsman. “Watch your back.”

“This will teach me not to practice for a week.” Fenris muttered as he whirled and cleaved through another attacker. “I like drinking here...rather not see it destroyed.” he hissed as a strike barely missed him. As the man brought his blade up for another swing, Varric picked him off from the other side of the room.

“To your left - last two!” called the dwarf. From overhead there was a yell that sounded like Arden, and a moment later an explosion from Varric’s rooms.

“That sounds expensive,” groaned the dwarf.

Fenris growled in annoyance as he took them out along with a couple of tables.“Better broke than dead.” the elf replied before he hacked a path back up the stairs for them. 

The room was a complete disaster zone; the table had been smashed to one side by an explosion, and large amounts of blood were splashed up the walls from the five bodies that had been decimated by some form of explosion. Arden was huddled over Hal’s body, a hastily-thrown-up wall of ice all that had protected them both from whatever had exploded.

“Are you alright?” Fenris asked as he approached the wall of ice, glad it wasn’t streaked red from the side Arden and Hal were on.

Arden lifted his head slowly. “I think so,” he said, putting a hand to his head dizzily. “Two more men came in through the window and threw something down. I barely had a chance to throw up ice before it went off.” He glanced down at the Tranquil mage sprawled beneath him. “Hal’s out.”

“Shit...let’s get him comfortable and I’ll help Varric...pick up. Or not...this might require you moving out for a bit.” the elf said.

Varric surveyed the mess. “Well, I was just saying to Daisy the other day the place could stand a little redecorating,” he mused philosophically. “Not too sure about the new decor though, Hawke.”

“Kind of macabre isn’t it.” Fenris said as he sighed and picked his way over to Arden’s side. “Any idea who could have set this up?”

Arden sat up and pulled his gauntlets off. “No idea... yet,” he said slowly. “You notice they seemed to be expecting Anders?”

“Yes...this is disturbing, especially after the other things that have happened. The men that seemed to be seeking a blond apostate, namely him.” Fenris sighed and started to run his fingers through his hair before he noticed the blood on his gauntlets.

Arden dropped his gaze down to Hal. “Well, whilst he’s out I guess I should remove that crossbow bolt,” he remarked, taking a firm hold of the shaft before drawing it out in one smooth motion. He pressed his hand firmly over the wound as blood welled up and the blue glow of healing magic surrounded his hand. The bloodflow eased then stopped. “That’ll do until we can get him somewhere safer,” he remarked.

“Hawke, I think you should look at this,” said Varric slowly.

Fenris rose and followed Arden over to see what Varric wanted.

The dwarf toed a severed left hand gingerly with his boot. A symbol had been carved into the palm of the hand, dried blood obscuring the lines, but it looked like the symbol of the Tevinter Chantry.

The elf stepped back with a grimace. “That’s...the sigil of the Imperial Chantry. What do they want with Anders or you?” Fenris said, his gaze locked to the dried, bloody symbol.

“Hawke... a year ago. Cousin Vic. We came across a group of men that had been butchered by... something, remember, Broody? All the left hands were missing,” remarked Varric.

Fenris sat down on the nearest surface and stared at the hand, he merely nodded as he thought back to the gruesome discovery. 

“They were looking for Anders. This was a trap set for him,” said Arden as he stared at the hand. His head jerked up as he caught Fenris’ eye. “Anders. The house. He’s alone there.”

“Fuck...Varric, watch Hal.” Fenris bolted out of the dwarfs rooms, panic in his heart. He heard Arden call his name as the mage leapt up and chased after him, not quite as fleet of foot as the elven warrior.

The elf didn’t hear anything but the pounding of his heart as he raced home, worried that he would find Anders gone, or worse. He had left Arden far behind, the Champion weighed down by his armour as he struggled to keep up.

As Fenris rounded the last corner, his heart sank; the front doors of the house had been smashed in and one hung drunkenly from the top hinge.

“No...no…” he breathed as he pulled his sword free and advanced slowly. There was an eery silence throughout the house.

“Anders, Anders…” he called as he made his way up the stairs and towards their room.

“In here,” Anders called back weakly. 

As Fenris entered the room, he stepped in a pool of blood. The room was a mess; blood splashed up the walls, which bore scorch marks. A trio of crossbow bolts were embedded in the opposite wall. The bed had been smashed to pieces. Six men lay dead about the room.

In the centre stood Anders, leaning heavily on his staff which was covered in blood, as was the apostate. He looked up slowly and heaved a sigh as he pushed blood-streaked hair out of his eyes.

“Took your bloody time,” he muttered before dropping to his knees.

“Sorry, sorry. We were still cleaning up after the ambush there.” Fenris helped Anders up and into the bathing chamber. “Forgive me, I failed you.” he nearly sobbed into the blood soaked blond strands.

Anders shook his head. “Stop that,” he growled. “Didn’t we just go through all that? We weren’t to know the house would be targeted. Just lucky the magebane wore off as they broke in.” He wiped a hand down his bloody face and spat blood. “I have had better days,” he muttered.

Fenris’ hands trembled as he started to strip the sodden clothes from his lover. “Shouldn’t have left you…” he whispered brokenly with each buckle and tie undone.

Anders pulled away from the elf and grasped Fenris’ wrists with surprising strength. “Stop that!” he rasped. “Just cut that out right now! You’re covered in blood yourself and I very much doubt it’s yours. Arden obviously needed you, and the day a Grey Warden can’t take down six common thugs by himself is the day Thedas is doomed. I could have handled them even without magic. I can fight with my staff pretty well you know; you think all that twirling is for show?” 

He released the elf’s wrists and caught Fenris’ face between his palms. “I am fine, love. A little bruised, and one of them got in a lucky shot or two, but most of this blood is theirs. Stop blaming yourself. You weren’t to know anyone would attack the house.”

Fenris merely nodded and pulled away to get them both stripped. He called out to Arden when he heard him charging up the stairs. “In here.” he called, his voice still too high and edged.

Arden paused in the doorway, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of Anders drenched from head to toe in blood. The blond apostate held up a hand to forestall the Champion.

“It’s not all mine - there are six dead men in our room,” he said. “I’m not hurt - well, not seriously. The bedroom is a mess but that was unavoidable I’m afraid.”

Arden opened and closed his mouth as Anders continued to undress, and finally he stumbled into the room. “What happened?” he finally managed.

“Six thugs burst in and woke me. Thankfully the last of the magebane wore off before things could get particularly nasty. I’d just finished taking them down when Fenris got here, too late to join the fun.” He peeled off his blood-soaked shirt and grimaced at a cut in his shoulder. “Damn, guess one of the bastards got me after all.”

“This wasn’t fun for you, I’m sure.” Fenris said hoarsely as he tried to stop the shaking in his hands. “I...I’ll start a bath then check on Bodahn and Orana.” 

“I’ll admit I’ve had more enjoyable wake-up calls,” agreed Anders.

Fenris didn’t reply, he just filled the tub and scooted around them to check on the rest of the household.

Anders stripped off the rest of his clothes then took up a cloth and began to sluice the blood off his body. Arden started to wrestle with the buckles and straps of his armour, swearing as he tried to remove it.

Bodahn and Orana were both in the kitchen with Sandal. They were staring at what appeared to be a very fine, incredibly detailed life-sized statue of a swordsman with sword upraised.

“Enchantment!” crowed Sandal upon spotting Fenris.

“Where did that come from?” the elf hissed as he stared at the thing on the floor. 

“He burst in and frightened Orana, messere,” replied Bodahn. “My boy took care of it though, not to worry!” He beamed with fatherly pride.

“Get it out of here, now.” Fenris said as he backed away from the thing that used to be a fighter. “Out, out of this house right bloody now Bodahn.” the elf panted as he backed out of the kitchen and towards the staircase.

In the bathing chamber, Anders was fiddling with the buckles of Arden’s armour, helping him to strip it off piecemeal.

“How on earth is it that you know how this stuff goes on and comes off anyway?” Arden was asking.

“You should see the get-up I wore in the Wardens,” replied Anders distractedly. “Stand still, you’re making this harder.” He flicked blood-soaked hair back out of his face. “There.” He pulled the last piece of armour free and tossed it onto the pile next to Arden then turned and climbed into the steaming tub, hissing as the hot water covered various cuts and bruises.

Fenris entered the room and pulled his clothes off and sluiced the blood and grime off as much as he could before he got into the tub too. He leaned back and groaned at how good the hot water felt.

Arden finished stripping, and sponged himself down to remove the splashes of blood on his face and hands. Unlike the other two, he seemed to have managed to avoid the worst of the blood splashes. He slipped into the spacious tub and groaned with pleasure.

Anders dunked his head under the water briefly to wet it then started to wash the blood out, his expression grim. “So,” he said quietly. “Which of us were they after this time?”

Fenris opened his eyes and stared at Arden with a should you tell him, or will I look. Arden shrugged back.

“You, it seems. They’d expected you to come to the meeting at the Hanged Man. I guess the ones who attacked you here were sent just in case one of us didn’t show.”

Anders nodded. “Why me?” he asked.

“I don’t know but Varric remembered those bodies we found with missing hands almost a year ago. One of the men who came after us had the sigil of the Imperial Chantry carved in their palm.” Fenris replied quietly.

“Blood magic?” asked Anders quietly, his hands stilling upon his hair in the act of rinsing it.

“If the Imperium is involved, likely yes. The question is what do they want you for.” Fenris said before he rinsed his own hair then grimaced with how filthy the water was. “Everyone out, the water needs changing.”

Anders and Arden climbed out. Arden eyed the cut in Anders’ shoulder with concern. “You should do something about that,” he said quietly.

Anders nodded and turned away, pressing a hand over the cut in his shoulder as he started to heal himself.

Fenris busied himself with draining, rinsing and refilling the tub so he didn’t have to think too much about Anders being a target of the Imperium.

Anders turned around with his hand upraised, still glowing blue at his fingertips. “Either of you two hurt anywhere?” he asked.

Fenris shrugged before he slipped back into the tub. He didn’t want to talk at the moment, he was still feeling too raw about everything.

“I’m fine,” said Arden as he gestured for Anders to get back in the water. The healer climbed back in and settled himself next to Fenris. He let his hand gently brush down the elf’s lyrium-marked arm, fingers delicately avoiding the brands themselves.

“Love?” Anders asked quietly, not wanting to pry but concerned over the warrior’s silence. 

“Not now...please.” Fenris replied just as quietly as he ducked his head under and finally rinsed his hair clean. He broke the surface and pushed his hair back from his face. “Later, once we’re not ...just later.”

Anders nodded understanding and lay back in the water, letting his head rest upon the edge of the tub as Arden climbed in on the other side. Anders lifted a hand toward the elf, fingers stretched toward Fenris’ hand, but held off from physically touching him, letting his hand rest in the water for the elf to take or not, as he chose.

Fenris took his hand, then let his eyes close again as he relaxed as well. A little of the tension eased from Anders’ own body as Fenris allowed the contact; he watched the steam rising lazily from the surface of the water, content to hold his tongue for once.

Arden busied himself with rinsing his own hair then carded his fingers through the damp locks, his eyes flicking between Fenris and Anders.

Fenris remained still and silent until the water started to cool, which finally made him move to get out of the tub. “I guess it’s the guest bedroom until our room is sorted.” the elf said as he stretched. “Hal...shit, he’s still with Varric.”

Anders lifted his head. “Hal? Did something happen to him?”

Arden groaned. “Andraste’s arse, I’d almost forgotten.” He glanced at Anders. “Hal took a crossbow bolt in the shoulder. We left him in Varric’s care when we realised you might be in danger.”

Anders pulled himself up out of the water and reached for a towel. “How bad was it? Will he be fit to move or do I need to go to him?”

“He can walk by now I hope. You stay right here with Arden, I’ll get Hal.” Fenris said testily. “Don’t let anyone in but me, Bodahn or Orana. I swear to Maker if you argue with me I will tie you to a chair.”

Anders merely raised an eyebrow then lifted his hands in mute surrender. He briefly considered making a quip about bedroom games but thought better of it when he saw the look on Fenris’ face.

“I’ll be back with him shortly. If I am running too long, send word to Varric but do not leave this house.” the elf said before he put on the spare armor Arden had commissioned for him and left for the Hanged Man.

“Come on,” said Arden as he towelled himself off. “Your clothes are a mess. I was keeping this for a surprise but I guess the present is as good a time as any.”

Anders blinked at him. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Come on, I’ll show you,” replied Arden.

**

Varric was taking inventory of the damage to his rooms when Fenris arrived. Hal sat quietly on one of the remaining undamaged chairs to one side, his left arm in a sling.

Fenris came in calling out to Varric so he wouldn’t be shot on accident. 

“In here, Broody,” replied Varric, waving him in. Hal glanced up, his face pale, eyes darkened by pain; his youth was more apparent with the customary blankness of his face replaced by the expression of pain. The dwarf gestured at the Tranquil youth. “I don’t think I can keep him here much longer, Broody; he’s starting to unnerve Corff’s girls and sooner or later someone’s going to talk. I like spinning tall tales as well as the next man but there’s only so much explaining I can get away with if you catch my drift.”

“I’ve come to take him home with me. Do you need somewhere to stay Varric?” Fenris helped Hal into his robes as best he could, his expression worried.

“I...am hurt,” said Hal quietly. “I am in pain.”

Varric waved him off. “I’ll be fine, don’t you worry about me.”

“I am sorry Hal, but if you come with me, Anders will be able to heal you. Can you walk?” Fenris asked softly.

Hal nodded. “I will walk,” he agreed.

“Follow behind me, if I go too fast, call out.” Fenris glanced at the Tranquil then back to Varric. “If you need anything, let us know.” the elf turned to go, slower than before so Hal could keep pace with him.

“Broody,” called Varric. When Fenris glanced back, he gestured at Hal and mimed putting a hood up. The elven warrior glanced at the Tranquil youth and tugged the hood up over the dark red hair, tugging it down over Hal’s forehead to hide the brand. 

“My thanks,” he said tersely.

“Anytime, Broody,” Varric nodded. “Tell Hawke I’ll call by in a couple of days.”

“I shall, come along Hal.” Fenris led the Tranquil back to the estate quickly as he could go and entered the side door, as Bodahn was already at work on the main doors to the house. He led Hal to the guest room and called for Anders. “I’m back.”

Anders appeared in the doorway, dusting off the sleeve of his jacket. Fenris did a double-take; Anders was dressed in what was superficially the same outfit as before, only in jet black from the shiny black feathers of his pauldrons, to the black suede jacket, to the long leather tunic beneath.

Anders paused, aware of Fenris’ scrutiny. “What?” he asked, hesitantly. “Does it... not suit me?”

“It...is ominous, very dark for you.”

Anders’ face fell. “You don’t like it,” he said in a small voice.

Fenris moved forward to stroke the feathers and suede coat. “It is not that I do not like it, it just seems an ominous choice of colour for you. Too funerary, but it suits you love.” 

“It was a gift from Arden,” replied Anders. “He said he was saving it for a special occasion but my old clothes were ruined.” He glanced over to Hal. “Maker, he looks dead on his feet,” he exclaimed, pulling away from Fenris and catching the Tranquil mage as he swayed. “Help me lay him on the bed.”

“Of course.” Fenris helped Hal lay back then moved aside so Anders could work. Anders carefully removed the sling then gently peeled the grey robe open, lifting the ripped fabric away from the wound. Hal’s face had taken on a waxy sheen, but although clearly in pain he didn’t cry out as Anders gently probed around the wound.

The blond apostate laid his hand over the wound and closed his eyes, directing healing magic into the ripped and torn muscle, closing the wound over with fresh new skin, pink and raw, as he worked to reknit muscle fibre and tendon within. Hal lay perfectly still, his amber eyes never leaving Anders’ face the entire time until Anders stepped back and rubbed his temples, blinking slowly.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

Hal sat up and experimentally rotated his arm, extending it then flexing his back. “I am without pain. Thank you,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Anders nodded then slumped against the wall. “Fenris....”

“What do you need?” the elf asked as he came over to help Anders up. 

“Dizzy... I need to sit down a moment. Something to eat.” He leaned heavily on the elf.

“Hal, are you able to get Anders something to eat and bring it back here?” Fenris asked as he walked his lover to the bed and helped him get the jacket off so it wouldn’t get ruined.

Hal got up and nodded, leaving the room silently. Anders grimaced as he lay back. “I am heartily sick of feeling weak nearly all the time,” he muttered. “Healing Hal should not take it out of me like this.”

“You were already on the mend when you had to fight off six men. Hush.” Fenris took the tray from Hal and sat it over Anders legs. “Can you feed yourself?”

Anders muttered to himself under his breath something that sounded like “Knickerweasels, of _course_ I can sodding feed myself....” as he sat up and reached for the food. Hal stood silently beside the bed, hands folded within the sleeves of his bloodstained grey robe. His eyes did not leave Anders’ face.

“Hal you may sit down and rest if you wish.” Fenris said quietly. “I’m going to check on Arden, then try to pull my heart from my mouth by dousing it in drink.”

Hal regarded him almost quizzically. “Your heart appears to be in your chest where it is supposed to be,” he said quietly. “You cannot douse it by drinking.”

Anders blinked. “Did he... did he just make a joke?” he asked in disbelief.

“I am not capable of humour. I am Tranquil,” replied Hal serenely.

Fenris sighed and left the room before he started laughing hysterically at Hal’s unintended show of humor. He worried that if he started, it would devolve into sobbing. The elf went to their room and sighed at the destruction. “Come out of here Arden, nothing to be done by staring at the walls.”

Arden had his back to the door; he didn’t turn at Fenris’ voice but raised his eyes to stare at the blood splashes across the ceiling, his eyes following one particular spray of rust-red marks. “Amazing how much blood even one human body can contain,” he mused. “I don’t think even Orana could get it out of the carpet. The walls and ceiling will have to be repainted.” he dropped his gaze to the remains of the bed. “I rather liked that bed,” he said a little wistfully before turning to face Fenris, unheeding of the blood soaking into the hem of his robe.

“I think sometimes I underestimate Anders,” he said quietly. “I doubt I could have fought off six men the way he did.”

“I’m sure you could have managed.” Fenris said as he pulled Arden into his arms and held him close.

Arden shook his head. “You have more faith in my abilities than I have, love,” he said quietly. “Remember what happened when I faced the Arishok?” He lowered his head to the elven warrior’s shoulder. He could feel Fenris shaking; he slipped his arms around the elf.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked gently.

“Too much, it’s all too much, too close together. The fighting, the targeting of Anders, or you. I can’t take anything else Arden.” the elf’s voice hitched as he held his lover close to him and tried to just breathe. 

Arden’s eyes widened and he held Fenris a little tighter. “It’s alright, love,” he said soothingly. “We’ve faced worse than this before and come through the other side, and we’ll get through this as well. Come on. Let’s get out of here; the smell of blood can’t be helping either of us any.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is very glad to be alive and shows both Champion and Warden just how glad he is. Vic is forced to see some hard truths about himself and that might be what breaks him.

Fenris was already awake when Invictus awoke; Anders was still out for the count, the small grey kitten nestled up to the side of his neck. As Invictus sat up, she opened one green eye then yawned widely, showing small sharp teeth, then turned and started washing Anders’ ear. The mage shifted his head slightly on the pillow but didn’t wake.

Fenris was pulling on his leather armour but paused when he saw Invictus was awake; clad in leather leggings and a simple tunic, he moved around the bed to bend down and kiss the dark-skinned mage with a warm smile.

“Should you be up? Anders said you were to take it easy.” Vic murmured sleepily.

Fenris chuckled, low and throaty. “He said I would be swinging my sword within a week; he said nothing of laying a-bed all day - unlike certain lazy mages.” He lightly nipped along Invictus’ jaw before kissing him again.

“Behave.” Vic muttered before he returned the elf’s affection. “Come on, let’s have breakfast then wake up our hero for his own meal. Then I’ll feed that littl…” Vic’s words dropped off as he turned to see Malum had come over to investigate the kitten.

It wasn’t fearful of the giant dog, but instead reached out one tiny paw to touch the mabari on the flat of it’s snout and mew at it rather imperiously.

Fenris laughed at the nonplussed look on Malum’s face as the mabari backed away a step then snorted. “I give it a week before the kitten has the dog firmly wrapped around her little paw,” he smiled. He held his hand out, offering Invictus a hand up.

“Here I was worried that he’d make a snack out of her.” Vic took his hand and stood up with a wide grin that couldn’t be contained. “So grateful you are still with me love, I was so worried.” Vic rasped before he leaned in and kissed Fenris again.

Fenris ran a hand down over his chest and glanced down. “I thought my time had surely come, but it seems our healer would fight even death for us.” He glanced up to Invictus. “We were truly fortunate he refused to wait upstairs in safety, beloved. Let us be thankful for the stubbornness of certain blond apostates.” He smiled gently.

“I plan to, often if you will let me. Come let’s speak downstairs so we don’t wake him.” Vic kissed the elf’s forehead then waved a finger at Malum. “Be good, watch over them.” he ordered before he took Fenris’ hand and let them downstairs.

Once in the kitchen, Fenris walked around the table, trailing one hand over the surface on his way toward the sink. He darted a glance back at Invictus as he paused, glanced meaningfully at the table then back up at the mage with a small grin before continuing on his way to fill the kettle and set it to boil for tea.

Vic arched an eyebrow at his lover, curious as to what mischief he was plotting out. “Feeling alright love? You look ...like you’re up to something.” 

“I’m sure I do not know to what you refer, beloved,” said Fenris as he turned and rested his hands against the counter top. He arched his own eyebrow at Invictus, a faint smile still playing about his lips.

“I’ve known you too long Fenris. You get this look in your eyes when you are being devious, and I see it now.” Vic said as he dished out some of the fried potatoes and sausages Orana had made for them.

Fenris eyed the food being set out on the table and chuckled. “I remember that table being set to a far more entertaining use recently, love,” he said softly as he came up behind Invictus and breathed in his ear. “Remember?” He took the mage’s earlobe between his teeth, worrying it lightly.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget that beloved. I take it you wish to do more than eat food right now?” Vic shivered slightly. 

“Mmm... I’m considering it, certainly,” replied the elf. “Though perhaps it would be best if we fortify ourselves with food first. Being healed of such a wound has left me with an appetite... in more ways than one.”

“Are you sure you should be doing such strenuous things love?” Vic muttered as he remained pressed against his lover in anticipation of whatever Fenris wanted of him.

“Perhaps not,” admitted Fenris. “But I find having touched death I have been left with a desire to reaffirm I am still alive, love.”

“Anything you want...anything.” Vic murmured before he leaned down and kissed him again.

“Let us eat first, and then see where things lead, hmm?” Fenris leaned up into his lover’s kiss, returning it fervently.

Vic smiled after he pulled back and nudged Fenris to sit down. “Let me serve you, relax.” He passed a plate to his lover and tea before serving himself, settling in close to the elven warrior and ate happily.

Fenris wolfed down his food with an appetite that would have put even Anders to shame, had the blond apostate been awake to see it. He finished before Invictus and watched him eating, his eyes devouring the sight of his lover hungrily over the rim of his mug as he slowly sipped his tea.

“Still hungry love?” Vic asked as he finished off his tea.

Fenris’ reply was a feral grin, all teeth and sharp edges and wolf-like.

“Well that answered that.” Vic said with a grin. “What will you do with me?”

Fenris set his mug aside and rose from his seat, prowling around the table until he was standing behind Invictus. He laid one hand upon the mage’s shoulder, the other cupping his chin, tilting Invictus’ head back until the mage was staring into a pair of intense green eyes. “I would have you on your knees and addressing me properly.” He smiled, baring his teeth.

“Yes ser.” Vic murmured as he slipped down to his knees and looked up to his lover. “Is this more what you wanted of me?”

“Mmm.” agreed Fenris as he ran a hand through Invictus’ hair. “Better. I want you to show me just how glad you are that I’m alive, Invictus Hawke. Let’s see if you can make me scream for once.” He grinned.

“As you say ser.” Invictus said before he tugged the elf’s pants down and sucked him down to the root in one breath, then hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard as he knew Fenris liked it. Not too fast but enough to pleasure his lover the way he loved to do.

Fenris slid both hands into Invictus’ hair and let his head fall back with a low groan. “Yessss....” he breathed, restraining the urge to thrust into that soft, hot, wet mouth that was engulfing his cock so deliciously.

Vic hummed and relaxed his jaw so he could take all of Fenris in all the way, he curled his tongue around the shaft slowly, so he could feel every inch, ridge and vein and savor his lover’s taste. Fenris whispered his name then moaned breathily, his hips rocking forward as the mage swallowed him down. Heat coiled pleasantly in his groin as Invictus began to move faster, and Fenris encouraged him with the touch of his hand. “Mmm. Such a good mage.”

Vic sucked faster, bobbing his head and resting his hands on the backs of the elf’s thighs. He pulled back for breath and smiled at his lover. “Do I please you ser, may I have more?”

Fenris closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing for a moment, recovering his composure before looking down at the mage at his feet. “Oh yes,” he nodded. “How much more would you like, my mage?”

“You, so deep in me I’ll feel it tomorrow, every time I walk or breathe ser.”

“I think that can be arranged,” grinned the elf. “Turn around, hands flat on the table, and prepare yourself.” He reached for a bottle of oil and pressed it into Invictus’ hands.

“Yesser.” Vic mumbled before he pulled his pants off and threw them across the room. He didn’t try to be slow or gentle as he slicked himself up and bent over to present his ass to his warrior. “Yours…”

Fenris took the oil and drizzled it liberally over his cock then stepped up behind the mage. Guiding himself with one hand whilst with the other he grasped Invictus’ hip with a grip just shy of bruising, he began to push slowly into the mage. “Feel that, Invictus? How much do you want this?” He teasingly pushed in a little then drew back before pressing in again, almost but not quite breaching the mage’s tight hole.

“More than air, more than anything.” Vic moaned as he leaned down and offered himself fully. “Domne… please, remind me that I’m yours.” the darker mage begged.

“Since you beg so prettily....” Fenris chuckled, then with one hard thrust plunged himself into Invictus. He drew back almost all the way then thrust in again hard before he rocked his hips, each undulating movement pressing deep inside to that most sensitive spot. Then he set up a slow, steady rhythm. “Say my name,” he murmured quietly.

“Fenris… Fen… ris….” Vic cried out. “Maker, fuck… Fenris… please.” the mage pleaded.

Fenris’ movements became faster, harder, his hips snapping rhythmically with a loud slap of flesh on flesh with each thrust until he was fiercely rutting into Invictus with wild abandon, pounding into the mage. The table shifted back with each thrust until it fetched up against the counter.

 

“Your magic... open up to me,” he panted as he let his brands light up, filling the kitchen with a blue glow.

Vic couldn’t speak, he just closed his eyes and let his power flow as he cast minor spells, nothing he had to concentrate for because he couldn’t string two words together if his life had depended on it.

Fenris drew upon the magic, drawing it into his brands, and the effect was electrifying upon them both as he fed the power of his lyrium back into the mage in an intense feedback loop that was almost unbearable. His legs trembled as he fought to hold back his orgasm. “Come for me, Invictus,” he managed to gasp.

The Champion gasped, then screamed out for mercy, anything as he did as he was told. By the time Vic was done, he’d made a mess of the table, his hands and the floor and if not for the elf’s grip on him, he would have fallen off the table into the pool under his feet.

Fenris followed him over the edge, his hoarse scream of Invictus’ name echoing only seconds after Invictus’ cry as he spilled his seed deep inside the mage. His hips thrust a couple more times erratically on pure instinctive inertia before he slumped, exhausted over Invictus’ back.

Anders stood in the doorway, cradling the small grey kitten in the crook of his left arm as he sleepily rubbed his eyes. “So... no breakfast then?” he asked quietly as he regarded them both in sleep-befuddled confusion. He stepped closer and the kitten leapt from his arm to the table top where she investigated Invictus with curiosity before licking his nose.

Fenris turned his head and smiled weakly at the mage. “There’s food...I’m going back to bed and taking Vic with me. Join us after you’ve eaten your fill.” the elf mumbled before he pulled away gently and promptly stumbled into a chair. “Or maybe I’ll sit here until the room stops spinning.”

Anders yawned then made his way over to the kettle, having enough presence of mind to grab a cloth before he moved it off the fire before brewing himself some tea. The bandage and splint were still around his left wrist but he was using his left arm and hand a little more freely. He turned and placed his back against the counter top as he regarded the two men.

“Feeling better I take it?” he observed.

Fenris opened one eye and glared at the mage half-heartedly. “Yes, but that was before I exerted myself.” the elf wanted to get to the privy on the first floor but that required movement. “Vic, are you alright?”

“Hmm, yeah...just need a few minutes.” the mage mumbled before he forced himself upright and hissed at the feel of his lover’s spend trickling down the inside of his thighs. “Bath, come on love, I’ll help you up.” 

Anders rolled his eyes at Invictus’ back as he walked up behind the other mage. Pressing the palm of his good hand against the small of Invictus’ back, he channelled a quick rejuvenate into him before glancing at Fenris and quirking an eyebrow in mute inquiry, lifting his still-glowing hand and gesturing towards the elf.

“Go on, I trust your magic Anders.” Fenris said as he looked up at the blond apostate with a slow grin.

Anders circled round behind the elf and gently laid his hand on Fenris’ shoulder, carefully avoiding touching his brands before casting a rejuvenate on him too. “There you go,” he said. “And... thank you.”

“Welcome...it would be silly not to trust someone who saved my life.” Fenris said as he stood and pulled Invictus out of the way so Anders could eat. “We’ll be in the room when you’re done.” he said with a smile.

Anders nodded and retrieved the kitten, which seemed to be irked that Invictus had been pulled away, interrupting her grooming of his nose. He watched them go, then pottered around the kitchen, fetching some cold meat from the pantry and a small dish of cream for the kitten before rummaging around for food for himself. He sat at the table, lost in thought as the kitten tucked into her food. She wandered over and batted at his hand as he ate absently, and he fed her small tidbits from his own plate.

It had been a most strange week, he reflected - between demon attacks and the drastic way things had changed between himself, Invictus and Fenris, he wasn’t entirely sure whether he was coming or going.

At least his mana was fully restored after a good night’s rest. He cradled his damaged wrist and let his awareness sink down into flesh, muscle, nerves, veins and bone, feeling out how the bones were healing before drawing upon his magic and directing it into the mending bone, speeding up the healing and drawing away inflammation until the break was healed and the bone strengthened.

He carefully unwound the bandage and removed the splint before flexing his wrist and testing his range of movement. The muscles felt a little stiff and sore, but that would wear off with time and a little gentle exercise. The bruising had faded to a ring of yellow marks around his wrist.

Winding up the bandage, he laid it to one side with the splint before washing up his plate and the small dishes he’d used for the kitten’s food and then made himself another mug of tea. Scooping the kitten up, he deposited her on his shoulder then made his way upstairs towards Invictus’ room.

Vic was curled up with Fenris, content to lie there and enjoy being caressed and talking quietly. He didn’t even turn when he heard the door opening. Anders paused in the doorway, glancing   
over to the bed.

Fenris beckoned him over and tugged at the covers with a smile. “Join us, please.”

Anders ducked his head, suddenly feeling unaccountably shy. He made his way over to the bed and perched on the edge, scooping the kitten down from his shoulder so she could jump onto the bed. He watched as she started stalking Invictus’ hair.

Vic jumped when he felt the cat swat at him. “Tiny beast, stop that” he murmured as he rolled over to scritch the kitten under the chin. “Stop being so damn shy, strip and join us.” he said softly.

Anders lifted his head and glanced from Invictus to Fenris, then started to pull off his shirt. “It’s been... a strange week,” he said quietly. 

“Yes, but right now I don’t care. I merely wish to relax with you both.” Fenris rumbled from the middle of the bed, next to Invictus. He watched as Anders disrobed and joined them. “Are you alright, the splint is gone.”

Anders rolled onto his stomach, pulling a pillow over to rest his head on as he turned his face towards them both. “It’s fine; I was rested enough to be able to finish healing it,” he explained diffidently. “It’s a little stiff but that will ease off soon enough.” He shrugged, then smiled as the kitten hopped up onto his back, stalking up his spine on tiny paws before crouching between his shoulderblades to wash herself. “Now that’s a feeling I’ve missed,” he said fondly. “Being a handy perch for a cat.”

“It seems she’s taken to you rather easily.” Fenris said as he reached over to let the kitten sniff his hand. “So, about...us three.”

Anders turned his face a little into the pillow until a lock of his loose hair tumbled over his face. “What- what about us three?” he asked, hoping his voice sounded casual even as his heart began to beat faster in his chest.

“If Vic agrees, would you be ...willing to, would you want to…” Fenris trailed off, unsure how to ask the mage if he wanted to join them permanently.

Anders felt his breath catch in his throat, his gaze shifting to the other mage.

“It’s alright with me, Fenris is the one running this household in case you didn’t realize it. I trust him with this.” Vic murmured from his place under the comforter.

Anders ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “It’s all happening rather fast for me,” he confessed. “I’m not entirely sure how I feel about -” He broke off and made a faint noise in the back of his throat. “Could we... take it slow, one day at a time?”

“Of course, for now what would you like Anders?” Vic asked as he sat up and gave them his full attention.

Anders blinked and considered the question. He was warm and fed, rested and healed. He had a small feline curling up on his shoulder and purring softly, and for the moment at least he wasn’t being chased by templars or otherwise running for his life, and no demons right at this very moment - all of which counted as very good things in his book. 

He could have quite happily have just curled up in their company and gone to sleep, but he sensed Invictus was expecting some actual response from him, something more than identifying physical wants.

“This... this is nice,” he said simply. “Being here, with you two, relaxed. For now, I’d just like to lie here with you, if that’s OK?”

“It’s fine.” Vic said as he stretched like the little kitten that had curled up on Anders back and was kneading his muscles as he lay there.

“No hurry, it’s not as if Vic is going to let me do much besides stay in his line of vision and be still.” Fenris said fondly. 

“You _were_ both rather... energetic earlier,” Anders smirked. He winced as the kitten’s claws inched into his flesh as she kneaded his shoulder. “Easy, little one, you’re sharp,” he murmured, reaching fingers up over his shoulder to stroke her head. She butted his fingers and mewed imperiously.

“She’s already telling you who’s boss I see.” Fenris murmured as he stroked Anders back softly. “Thank you Anders, I would not be here if not for you.” 

Anders’ eyes drifted shut as he made a small sound of appreciation, back arching slightly into Fenris’ touch.

“I think that cat is a kindred spirit.” Vic said quietly as he took turns caressing his lover...lovers he supposed was more accurate as they just laid around quietly. Anders merely smiled and purred, content to lie there and be stroked, no longer self-conscious about the scars on his back.

“I suppose Sebastian had questions about why Anders was here.” Fenris said as he stretched out fully alongside Invictus and pressed light kisses to the dark-haired mage’s neck and shoulder.

Anders shifted uneasily, opening one eye. “I’m disinclined to hang around to answer Chantry Boy’s questions,” he said quietly.

Vic grunted…”He asked and I deflected his answer. I was more concerned with Fenris’ well being at the time. Our home, our business. No matter how I feel about Sebastian, what goes on here is for us to know and not for him to judge.” 

Anders visibly relaxed at Invictus’ words. “That’s comforting,” he smiled. “It was rather alarming to wake up being manhandled by a couple of guards only to encounter him on the stairs. I thought they were all trying to take me to the Gallows.” He shivered.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t come down but…” Vic trailed off as he stared down at his elven lover. 

“Vic, I’m alive, it’s ok.” Fenris replied.

Anders waved off the apology. “It’s alright, I wasn’t really with it and confused. No harm done except briefly to my composure.” He smiled slightly. “So... we vanquished the demon. What next?”

“I’m going to rest up for a couple of days as ordered by our healer.” Fenris said before he arched against Vic’s caresses. “Or stay in bed surrounded by my mages, either way is fine with me.”

Anders chuckled. “Now who’s being cat-like?” he teased. “I swear, you’re about to start purring.”

“Elves don’t purr.” Fenris grumbled even as he writhed against their touches.

Anders reached out and ever so lightly trailed a finger along Fenris’ ear. “Oh?” he asked softly.

“No, I cannot physically do such a thing.” Fenris grumbled, then tilted his head towards Anders with a secret little smirk.

“Of course you can,” said Anders teasingly. “You roll your Rs when speaking Tevene. You purr every time you speak.” He enunciated the point by purring loudly from the back of his throat then grinning, stroking Fenris’ ear.

The elf’s eyes closed and he smiled openly. “You are more feline than human at times.” 

Vic was content to watch them, he was still was sated from their earlier romp but he had a feeling Fenris was still willing and eager to show Anders his appreciation. 

Anders rolled over onto his back and away from the elf, stretching with his arms above his head, toes pointed and back arching up off the bed before folding his arms behind his head and staring up at the bed canopy. “I spent a lot of time with just a cat for company,” he said. “It’s not surprising if some of his traits rubbed off on me.”

Fenris sat up and leaned over the blond. “I liked your touch, would you continue?” the elf asked quietly. Anders stared up at the elf then wordlessly pulled a hand out from behind his head, reaching up to gently fondle and stroke Fenris’ ear with a slow smile.

The elven fighter arched his neck and despite his earlier protests, he made a low, rumbling noise more like a wild cat than a house pet but still a purring noise as his ears were stroked and rubbed.

“See, you _can_ purr,” chuckled Anders softly. He pulled his other hand out from behind his head and reached up to thread his fingers gently into the soft white hair.

“Hmmm, always so eager to make me putty in your hands.” Fenris murmured as he allowed Anders to play. Anders laughed as his fingers stroked small circles against the elf’s scalp, his other hand still stroking the elf’s ear. 

“Why not, when you respond so beautifully?” he teased. “Much nicer than all the hissing and spitting and snarling you used to do. I much prefer this Fenris.”

“And I would not be around to give you such responses if not for your skills.” Fenris said softly, his eyes half open and dark with desire.

Anders pulled his hand slowly from the elf’s hair and pressed it against Fenris’ chest. “It’s what I do,” he said quietly. “It’s what I was born for. What use is magic if I cannot save a life with it? I could no more stop healing than I could stop breathing.”

“Understood...what do you want Anders? Right now, while you have me so amenable and thankful for my life.” Fenris said roughly, a whine in his voice at how good he felt under the mage’s touch.

“What do you desire?” Anders asked quietly.

“You if you and Vic would allow it?” the elf said, his gaze unsure for once. Anders glanced to Invictus, one eyebrow quirking upward in silent query.

“He’s all yours, I’ll just get out of the way...slowly.” Vic said as he edge out of bed and winced at how sore his backside was. “Unless you want an audience love?” he queried.

“Need a spot of healing, love?” asked Anders, the endearment slipping out without thought, and then he suddenly froze as he realised what he’d just said, eyes widening slightly as he looked at Invictus.

“It’s a bit soon for love don’t you think?” Invictus said as he hunted for his pants.

Anders glanced away, unable to meet either man’s eyes, a little stunned still by how a slip of the tongue seemed to change things slightly. He hadn’t meant it to slip out so casually, the word escaping his lips without thought.

“Answer him Anders...we’re not angry, it’s just surprising to hear is all.” Fenris said before he leaned in and brushed his lips against the other man’s gently, quickly before he pulled away.

“It... I... it just slipped out, I....” He ran both hands through his hair and swallowed. He felt confused, disoriented now. “I think I need a little time by myself to think... please?”

Fenris scowled briefly, his disappointment a brief flash of emotion before he gave Anders space. “Of course, I could use some lunch anyway after such a tiring morning.” the elf slipped from bed and dressed quickly. “Take all the time you need.” the elf said before he left the room.

Anders sat up slowly, the kitten protesting at all the moving about as she pounced on his hand. He stroked her absently as he reached for his shirt, pulling it on before scooping up the grey ball of fluff and depositing her on his shoulder again. Lost in thought, he wandered from the room and down the hall to the guest room, mulling over what had just happened.

Vic stood there, half dressed and confused by what had just happened. He wasn’t sure who to go after so he pulled on a tunic and whistled for Malum to follow him downstairs.

Anders stood by the window, stroking the kitten with a forefinger as he stared down at the street below but not really seeing it. The endearment had slipped out so naturally, he hadn’t even thought about it. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was he felt. There was a lustful chemistry between all three men, that was undeniable - and they had spoken of “the three of us” - but was there something more there? He’d had his fill of meaningless physical liaisons in the past but he was lonely and yearned for something more, something deeper, on an emotional level. Justice had left a huge void in his heart; was he simply, desperately trying to fill it - or was there something further here, an actual connection? Was he falling for Invictus and Fenris? 

He didn’t know. All surety was gone, taken from him along with the spirit, and he was left to sort through the muddle of his feelings. 

He leaned against the window frame, unseeing, trying to sort through thoughts and feelings and make sense of them.

Fenris busied himself with making lunch while he tried to sort his thoughts out. He was so focused on preparing something, he didn’t hear Vic approach until the mage called his name. “Fenris, why did you run out of the room like that?” 

The elf turned slightly and glanced over his shoulder at the mage, then back down at his hands. “I...am unsure,” he admitted slowly. “I felt perhaps it was better to give Anders space, but... there was something more.” He turned and stared at Invictus.

“Tell me truly, Invictus - do you care for Anders? As more than a bed partner?”

“I am coming to, but it...it is difficult to describe. I admit part of it is gratitude for you being here still. But some of it is from seeing a different side of him, learning more of him and his past. Knowing what could have easily befallen me if not for my parents being willing to sacrifice so much for us.” Vic said honestly. “You?”

“I have come to realise he and I have much in common that I had never realised before - I never cared to know. I am... uncertain how much is merely a feeling of kinship for what we each suffered at the hands of our respective tormentors, how much is gratitude for my life - and how much may be something more.” He sighed. “There is a hunger within him, and I find myself wishing to relieve it. I am... uncertain as to whether I should.”

“All we can do is offer and see what he says. I think he wants to have more than a quick fuck from us. But other than you, I’ve never really had a real relationship, but I am willing to open my heart if you will allow it and if he’d have it.” Invictus said as he moved forward to embrace his lover.

Fenris’ arms embraced Invictus and the elf rested his head against the taller man’s shoulder. “I am willing to try,” said Fenris slowly. “I think he is confused himself however, and perhaps needs a little time, as he said. It has only been a week, after all.”

“Let’s have lunch and then get you back to bed. You are under healer’s orders to rest after all love.” Vic said before he leaned in and kissed his lover. “Remember no matter what, I am yours my heart.” 

Fenris returned the kiss then pulled away to finish making lunch. “I will not lay abed, Invictus; I am recovering, but I am not an invalid. I feel physically fine.”

“Fenris, you fucking di...you ...please love, please?” Invictus begged, his eyes soft as he looked to his lover. “I don’t want to lose you, please just rest up for a while?” 

Fenris frowned slightly “Invictus, you are becoming... overprotective. We have both come close to death - many times. Anders healed me, I am restored to health; what does it matter if I rest down here or upstairs in bed? You know I chafe at idleness; it ill suits me. I shall refrain from sword practice if that makes you feel happier, but beloved - please, I need no coddling. You know it makes me uncomfortable.” He cupped Invictus’ face between his palms and kissed him gently to take a little of the sting out of his words.

Vic’s face fell and he pulled away from his lover. He’d nearly lost Fenris and it still played on his emotions. “As you wish love. I’m going to go catch up on correspondence then.” 

Fenris sighed, and turned away to finish making food. He set aside a plate for Anders as he dished up for himself and Invictus. It looked like he would be eating alone, he reflected, shaking his head as he moved to put the kettle on to brew tea.

Invictus was afraid for him, that much he knew; but the idea of laying in bed for a couple of days being fussed over irked him. He was physically fine; a little sore here and there, but certainly no worse than following on one of Invictus’ many little adventures. All told, they’d come through fairly well thanks to Anders. He guessed this business with the demons had rattled Invictus far more than he was letting on.

He turned to take a plate through to Invictus then halted as he briefly caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of his eye dashing past the open door. Someone with red hair.

“Vic!” he called, throwing the plate of food onto the table as he caught up a large kitchen knife in lieu of his sword which he’d left upstairs as he darted out into the hallway.

The mage turned when he heard his name called but was confused as to why his lover sounded so ...annoyed. “What?”

Fenris glared around the foyer, knife held at the ready. “Where is he?” he snapped, eyes darting all round the room then up the stairs.

“Where is who? And why are you brandishing a knife at me? Are you that angry at me?” Vic said as he eyed his lover warily.

Fenris paused then glanced down at the knife in his hand. He lowered it. “No, I am... not angry with you, beloved,” he said quietly. “I thought I saw that dead mage - the other Hawke. Perhaps it was only my eyes playing tricks upon me.” He glanced once more round the foyer, a frown of confusion on his face.

“He can only appear in mirrors, only if I call and it’s an emergency.” Vic replied as he watched Fenris, worried the elf had overexerted himself but he was not going to suggest he lie down again.

Fenris shook his head. “I could have sworn I saw him standing there, as real as you are. He ran towards here, but....” He made a sound of frustration.

The mage shrugged and looked at the knife in his hand. “I would have called out if I’d seen him. Remember he can’t appear without great cost to himself. For now, there’s nothing that needs me to try and call Endrin. Unless he can sense something I cannot. I doubt he’d show up without making his presence known. Please put the knife down love.”

Fenris glanced down at the knife, then let it fall to the ground. “Forgive me, beloved; I did not mean to....” He glanced around the foyer once more. “I do not understand,” he said quietly.

“Neither do I. Do you wish my company while you eat, or will you do something else?” Vic asked quietly. He was still hurt by the elf’s refusal to lie down but he wasn’t going to push it. 

“What’s going on?” called a quiet voice; Fenris glanced up. Anders was standing at the top of the stairs, the kitten on his shoulder. He glanced from Fenris to Invictus. “I heard shouting, is everything alright? It’s not another demon is it?” He began to make his way down the stairs towards them.

“No, not a demon.” Vic answered, his gaze on his lover before he bent down to pick up the kitchen knife and head downstairs. “I’ll return this to the kitchen, pardon me.” 

“What’s going on?” repeated Anders as he approached the elf. “Fenris?”

“I... thought I saw something,” replied the elf slowly. “It seems I was mistaken.”

Anders frowned. “Invictus didn’t look too happy... did something happen between you two?”

“He wishes me to return to bed. I... am impatient. I prefer to be up and doing, not lying down and sleeping.” The elf shrugged irritably.

“Ahhh,” said Anders. “I see.” He glanced towards the kitchen. “Maybe we should eat lunch, and then perhaps you could humour him for a little while afterwards? Perhaps practice your reading so you’re not actually doing nothing?”

“ _Venhedis_ , mage, you are as bad as...!” Fenris broke off and sighed. “Very well. Your suggestion has... merit.” he gestured toward the kitchen, and Anders nodded and followed Invictus, the elf a step behind him.

Vic had filled a plate and started eating, slowly so he wouldn’t seem as if he was trying to hurry and get back to the study so he could ignore the minor sense of annoyance that would not leave him. He glanced up and looked at the two men then went back to his meal.

Fenris passed Anders’ plate to him then went to make tea for them all before sitting down with his own plate. As Anders began to wolf down his meal, Fenris looked to Invictus, wanting to apologise but hesitant in the face of the mage’s silence.

“Have you decided what you wish to do since you don’t want to go back to bed?” he asked Fenris, careful to keep his voice even and not let on to either of them how irritated he was. “I should check with Bodahn about supplies as well, perhaps go to the market instead of reading over the same tired letters I get.” 

“Invictus...I thought perhaps I’d practice my reading in our room.” the elf replied. 

“Don’t ...it’s not what you want, you said so yourself. Do as you please love, it’s not like---” Vic cut himself off by finishing the last few bites of his meal rather than give voice to his annoyance. “Just don’t change your mind, you said you hate being idle and sitting about reading is as idle as you ever get. I’ll just go to the market and return in a bit.” the mage went to the sink and tried to scrape his plate clean but nearly dropped it. He was rattled, annoyed and upset with himself for being so scared even after Fenris had been healed. 

Fenris watched him and sighed inwardly. “Reading is not idleness; it at least exercises my mind, even if I am not allowed to exercise the rest of me, beloved.”

Invictus let the plate down with a thunk and turned to face Fenris with a rare snarl for his lover. “You are allowed to do whatever you damn well please. I’m going to the market, I will be back later...beloved.” the mage started to head out of the kitchen before he lost his temper with both of them.

Fenris recoiled slightly, almost instinctively; a small distant part of himself he’d long ago thought buried and forgotten rose up and whispered thoughts of other mages, angry mages; magisters. He didn’t flinch, but it was only through an effort of will. He dropped his gaze to the wooden surface of the table and went still.

Vic caught sight of his lover’s action, and caught himself before he snapped again. “Stop, I am never, ever going to hurt you Fenris. Don’t do that...please.”

“You are angry with me,” said Fenris softly, not raising his head.

“I’m frustrated and I ...just don’t want you to do something I know you don’t want to do love. I just need to get out of the house, I’m feeling a bit stir crazy, and clearly my temper is frayed. So let me run my errand, do what you feel like doing and when I’m home we can make dinner?” Vic came over and tilted Fenris’ head up until they were gazing at each other.

“As you wish, love,” Fenris replied quietly. “I fear we are both out of sorts.”

“I love you and I’m just...I don’t want to come so close to losing you alright. It’s got me wound up in a way I don’t like.” Vic leaned in and kissed him softly. “I’ll be back, maybe talk more with Anders so he can stop standing around the foyer like a lost puppy.” 

Fenris glanced through the open door where indeed, Anders could be seen in the foyer, trying to look as though he were looking anywhere but at them - and likely wishing he could be anywhere but there right now. He looked as though given the slightest excuse he would break and run.

“I think we perhaps frightened him, love.”

“I frightened myself a bit. Go on and talk to him, I’ll be home soon.” Vic said quietly before he left them to talk or whatever it was Fenris wanted to do instead of lying down.

Fenris rose to his feet and walked towards Anders. The mage looked on edge and nervous as the elf approached.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear!” Anders said hastily, holding his hands up as he took a step backwards. Fenris halted.

“We were rather loud I fear,” the elf replied, keeping his distance from the blond apostate. “I apologise if we alarmed you.”

Anders ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry if my suggestion only caused more friction between you two.”

“I think we’re all kind of worn thin, and this business with demons, compounded by guilt over attacking me has him more frayed than usual. He knows me too well, and saw through my attempt at soothing him by humoring him. It is not your fault.” Fenris said quietly.

“I thought reading might be a good compromise,” Anders shrugged. 

“It is, he just knows me well enough to see when I am being …conciliatory. Come, let’s go to the study and talk some more while he’s off shopping. It’s been an odd week and you have had little chance to talk with either of us.” Fenris tipped his head towards the staircase, a sad expression on his face.

Anders nodded and followed the elf up to the study. “I... don’t mean to pry,” he said hesitantly. “But when Invictus turned on you... I’m sorry, it was your body language. I recognised it. It...” He darted a nervous glance at Fenris. “You thought he would hit you or take his temper out on you, didn’t you?”

Fenris poured himself a drink then handed the blond a drink before he spoke. “I was not sure what he was going to do to be honest. It was his voice, and I despise myself for even reacting as much as I did. Invictus would not harm me, not normally.” 

Anders took a sip of his drink before he spoke. “Had I been in your place, I doubt I would have behaved any differently. Sometimes all it takes is a certain tone of voice and instinct takes over, even when the reason for that instinct has long since ceased to be a threat or danger.” He took a hasty swallow of his drink then choked as the strong liquor hit his throat like liquid fire. He doubled over coughing.

Fenris put his drink down and helped Anders by whacking him on the back. “Are you alright?” 

Anders gasped for air and managed to nod, his eyes streaming. “Not used to anything that strong,” he muttered when he could draw breath again.

“Apologies, I would have not poured such a hard liquor for you then.” Fenris handed him water and sat in front of the fire as he waited for Anders reply. 

“Justice never let me drink, so I’m.. just not used to it any more I guess,” Anders shrugged as he sat down and sipped the water.

“I see, I’ll try to remember this the next time we share a drink.” Fenris sipped quietly as he watched the other man. “Is there anything you wished to ask of me, anything you wish to know about my offer?” the elf said quietly.

Anders toyed with his glass, rolling it between his palms. “I... don’t want to be just....” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “I need to know if this is purely a physical thing, or if there’s more to it than that. I’ve had my fair share of meaningless flings, but... I don’t think I could do it if that’s all this is.” He kept his eyes on the dark rug before the fire, almost afraid to meet the elf’s eyes.

“It is not merely physical, Vic and I were talking about it earlier. If you wish to see where we could go, both of us are willing to try. If you don’t want to attempt it, I understand. I admit part of my emotions about it are tied to gratitude for you saving me. But I have come to see our similarities as well, and can see the common ground we both rest on.” Fenris refilled his glass and swirled the amber liquid around, his gaze on it rather than the mage. 

“And I’m not sure how much of my own feelings are just... simple loneliness,” said Anders quietly. “I’m tired of being alone, but... it’s not just that. There’s something... something about you two. But at the same time, it... frightens me, how fast things are happening.” He finally looked up, meeting the elf’s eyes.

“Do I frighten you? Or Invictus? Because of our past actions?” Fenris asked after another sip of whiskey. 

“A little,” admitted Anders. “But also....” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “In the Circle, we could never allow ourselves to love. It would be just one more thing for the templars to use against us. It was... a kind of unwritten rule, not to let yourself get too attached or fall in love.” He smiled faintly. “It’s a rule I’d like to break.”

“I see...I think.” Fenris contemplated his drink for a moment before he spoke quietly to Anders, his gaze decidedly not on the other man. “It was...similar in Minrathous. Any kind of attachment to another slave was severed before it could deepen. Or worse, was used as a guarantee of your compliance. I made the mistake once...and I swore never to do so again. It took a lot for me to admit my feelings to Invictus and it’s still a deep rooted fear that it will be used against me somehow.” 

Anders drew a deep breath. “I’ve only ever broken the rule once. That was Karl.” He dropped his gaze to the floor, but not before Fenris saw a flicker of pain deep within those amber eyes.

“I am sorry for your loss. I see now what it did to you to have to ...end his life like that. Were I ever in your place, I don’t know if I could give Vic that release.” Fenris took a long pull of his drink and grimaced in remembered pain. 

“Karl begged me. It was the last thing I could do for love of him,” said Anders sadly. “Whilst Justice was present, he... was awake and aware enough to know what had been done to him. He begged me to release him. I had no choice but to grant his wish.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand; he wasn’t sure when he’d started to cry, but his cheeks were wet with remembered grief. 

Fenris set his drink down and went over to Anders, his thumb brushed the remaining tears away. “I am sorry, I did not mean to bring you back to your past like this.” the elf’s own eyes were misty with memories he’d shared with Invictus but not Anders, not yet.

“It’s been a few years now. It just catches me sometimes. Mostly I try not to think about it,” confessed Anders. “He was my first.” He glanced at his empty glass. “I think I need another drink,” he sighed.

“Of course.” Fenris refilled his tumbler and topped off his own before he pulled his chair a bit closer and clinked his glass with Anders’. “To lost loves and learning from our pain.” the elven warrior said quietly. 

Anders raised his own glass, then sipped it cautiously. “It’s not so bad if I don’t knock it straight back,” he smiled ruefully.

“Good drink is to be savored, not gulped. One of many lessons I finally learned after escaping.” Fenris said, his eyes were bright and he was well on his way past sobriety.

“We both seem to have spent our lives running away,” observed Anders. “Perhaps it’s finally time to stop running.”

“Danarius is dead, I have a good life with Hawke and hopefully you as we go forward; there is no where I wish to run to at this point.” Fenris shrugged and took another sip. “I’d just as soon forget my past anyway.” 

“I don’t think I ever ran _to_ anywhere, only _from_ ,” mused Anders. “The destination didn’t matter as long as I got away. But I don’t feel the need to run away anymore. There are still templars to worry about, of course - but apart from them, I feel for once in my life I don’t need to keep looking over my shoulder. It’s... a novel experience for me.”

Fenris huffed, and drank more. “Even with Danarius dead, I still keep an eye out. there’s always some fool who thinks he’ll rise to power by dragging me back in chains. I’ve had to kill more slavers than I can count over the past years. It’s tiresome really.” 

Anders lifted a hand and grinned without humour. “My fireballs and lightning are at your service should they come calling,” he said.

“Thank you.” Fenris said softly. He hadn’t expected such a declaration and it made him think of the ones that had taken him in, helped and healed him yet when ordered he’d taken them out on command. He covered his face with his hand and tried to hold back the choked sob that rose in his throat.

“Fenris?” asked Anders, setting his glass aside. “Did I... Maker, if I spoke out of line, I’m sorry. I know how you feel about mages, I....Damn me, I should have thought first. Fenris?”

“It’s not that, it’s ...a memory that haunts me still.” the elf took a drink to fortify himself then told the same story he’d poured out to Vic before they were truly together, his anguish just as deep and cutting as it had been when it happened. “You did not upset me, your offer just...I have had few that have given themselves so freely, and I fear turning on Vic, you ...myself were another magister to take hold of me.” 

Anders dropped down to a crouch by Fenris’ knees; he lifted his hand as if to touch the elf then thought better of it, knowing how much the elf usually hated touch. “A magister will find you not so easy a target with two mages by your side,” he promised. “They will not take you, I swear it.”

“Such a declaration from you and I’ve done nothing to deserve it.” Fenris said as he watched how carefully Anders held himself back, crouched before him and gazing up at him with such earnestness. “Thank you.”

“You earned it by your actions this past week,” said Anders quietly. “You’ve treated me as a living person - not ‘the abomination’. You’ve changed towards me; how could I not change in response to that? Even if the magisters weren’t a bunch of -” he broke off, aware his voice had taken on a hard, almost venomous edge. “I haven’t the words to describe those monsters,” he said, shaking his head. “Even when we were at loggerheads, I would never have countenanced handing you over to them - and that goes double now.”

Fenris leaned down until he was close enough to kiss the blond mage, his eyes dark and his voice rough. “May I have the pleasure of taking you again? It is how I wished to convey my thanks earlier but ...now I wish it to be…” the elf broke off, unsure of the words in Trade. “more..than a mere thank you fuck” he finally said in Tevene, his gaze steady and his hands clenched on the arms of the chair even as he awaited an answer.

Anders’ eyes widened slightly and he swallowed, staring up at the elf. “Right now?” he managed to gasp.

Fenris smirked…”not right this second, I am more than a little drunk and still tired from earlier. But perhaps after dinner, if you are amenable to my...advances?” 

Anders’ lips curved in a soft smile. “Are you going to wine and dine me first then?”

“I could just take you over my knee and spank you for your cheek if you prefer that?” the elf smiled at him more like a predator than a paramour.

“Hmm, I might like that,” admitted Anders. “I think I’d prefer the wine and a good meal though.” He turned slightly, resting one hand on the floor as he sat himself down on the floor to relieve the slight cramping in his long legs. He leaned back and glanced up at Fenris. “I think I like this new Fenris I’m getting to know,” he grinned.

“The one that propositions you, and tells you of his dark past?” the elf rumbled as he sat back and reached out to touch the dark blond hair almost the same way he petted Malum. 

“The one who trusts me enough to share his past with me. Who takes the time to understand my own reactions to the past.” He leaned a little into the touch. “And...well... this is nice,” he smiled, a little distracted.

“You are a cat, admit it,” Fenris said softly as he dug a bit more and scratched at the mage’s scalp with blunt nails.

Anders’ eyes slid closed as he tilted his head toward the elf’s hand with a low moan. “Maybe,” he breathed.

“I knew it.” Fenris huffed as he gave in to the urge to pet Anders and coax him into relaxing against his legs. Anders’ head slowly dropped as the elf’s hand moved down to stroke the back of his neck; it took only a light pressure and he leaned in against Fenris’ legs with a small contented sigh.

Fenris didn’t speak more, and he was content to sit there like that with Anders, even after he heard a light snoring coming from the mage. It was how Vic found them, Fenris conked out with one hand tangled in Anders’ hair and the former warden sound asleep against him. Anders was slumped against Fenris’ leg, head dropped to his chest as he gently snored, oblivious to the mage standing over them, trying to stifle a chuckle at the sight of them both together.

Fenris barely opened his eyes, aware of Vic’s presence finally. “Stop laughing.” he huffed quietly and closed his eyes again. Anders’ snores stopped as the blond apostate stirred slightly, nuzzling his head against Fenris’ leg, eyes still closed. “You stopped,” he mumbled sleepily.

“I fell asleep too...but Invictus is home, we should get cleaned up for dinner. We can continue afterward.” Fenris said as he forced himself awake. “Not a word Vic, not one damned word.” he fussed but with a smile that belied his gruff tone.

Anders opened his eyes and glanced round blearily. “Oh. So he is.” He got to his feet then stretched, arching his back with a series of cracks from his spine, wincing as he did so. 

“I’ll be along in a bit, I’m going to finish my drink and then come to dinner.” Fenris smiled at them then reached for his half-full glass. 

Anders turned and waggled a finger. “Just remember you promised to wine and dine me,” he reminded the elf with a smirk.

“Yes, yes…go on, I’ll be along in a bit after I’ve finished this. No sense in letting good whiskey go to waste.” the elf raised his glass and settled back in his chair so he could sip and think for a bit longer.

Anders nodded and turned away, giving Invictus a small smirk and a wink as he headed toward the door.

“What was that for?” Vic asked as they headed down to the kitchen for tea and for Vic to watch the steaks he’d picked up along with the root vegetables he had roasting over the fire. 

“What do you mean?” asked Anders, his voice innocent though the look in his eyes belied any purity of thought.

“I know him pretty well, and that smirk and wink was not leading at all, no wonder Malum beats you at Wicked Grace. You can’t bluff for shit Anders.” Vic grinned between flipping the steaks, his stomach growled at him as he smelled the spices wafting up from them.

Anders grinned and blushed, looking down at the floor as he leaned against a nearby counter. “Fenris said he’d wine and dine me... and then I suppose we do what usually happens after wining and dining,” he said in a voice that was striving for diffidence.

“Ah so he wants to pick up where he left off earlier then?” Vic motioned towards the roasting vegetables. “Get those would you?” he muttered as he wrangled the steaks, making sure Fenris’ was more on the rare side and theirs were cooked more to medium done-ness. “This is strange territory for us, just understand that please.” the darker mage said as he reached for dishes.

“It’s all rather new for me too,” replied Anders as he reached for the roasting pan then swore as he managed to burn his hand, snatching up a nearby cloth to protect himself as he shifted the hot pan off the fire and over onto a cast-iron trivet. “Andraste’s flaming knickers,” he muttered, shaking his hand.

Vic took his hand and blew cold air over the reddened flesh. Then cast a bit of healing magic over Anders hand. “It’s superficial, I can heal that kind of wound. You’ll need both hands later.” he winked as he set the dishes with their steaks on the counter and turned in time to see Fenris come in the door.

“Thanks,” replied Anders. “I wasn’t thinking.” He eyed the healed skin then flexed his hand experimentally.

Vic served his lover and leaned in to kiss him in welcome. “Forgive me for earlier love?” he whispered.

“Always beloved, I know now your heart was in the right place.” Fenris replied before he tugged his mage down and kissed him for a long time, almost until he needed air. “Do you wish to watch or make yourself scarce after dinner?”

“Not sure yet, but you are my...domne and your will is my will Fenris.” Vic replied, almost in a moan. The idea of seeing them together already had his mind going, but if Fenris wanted Anders to himself later he would find something else to do.

“Thank you for dinner, it looks and smells wonderful. Sit, and eat love.” Fenris said before he dug into his meal with fervor. He was starved and a thick slab of red meat was just what he wanted. He enjoyed the meal with pleased sighs and content noises of happiness. His expressions bordered on obscene, and he enjoyed what how they affected his lovers.

Anders was distracted by Fenris’ antics, though not enough to put him off enjoyment of his own meal. He didn’t quite bolt his food the way he had the first few meals he’d shared under Invictus’ roof, but his plate was clean before either Fenris or Invictus. He sat back with his glass of wine, a bemused expression on his face as he tried not to stare too openly at the carnal enjoyment Fenris was displaying over his food.

Fenris finished next and leaned back with a mug of hot tea. He didn’t want to mix drinks, nor be too wiped out for his planned fun with Anders. 

Anders sipped his wine slowly, covertly studying both men in turn over the rim of his glass. He held his tongue, though he was dying to ask what precisely Fenris had planned.  
Vic finished last and cleared their plates. “I will be in the study if you need me love.” he murmured before he leaned in and kissed Fenris on the cheek. 

“You don’t want to …” the elf drawled as he finished his drink. 

“No, this time should be just you two I think. I’ll come in once you’ve finished, and perhaps there will be some fun left for me to have. Be good to each other.” with that he left them alone for whatever his lover had in mind.

Anders drained his glass then set it down. He eyed Fenris for a moment, then slipped out of his seat and dropped to his knees at Fenris’ feet, eyes on the floor.

“Is this what you want of me too Anders? To be my willing ...pet as he is?” Fenris said quietly as he pondered the man at his feet.

Anders raised his eyes. “What would you have of me?” he asked softly. “I can be submissive if that’s your desire. I... I have been dominant when the occasion calls for it, but... with you... I trust you,” he finished quietly.

“You must realize I cannot let a mage dominate me, it is not you, or Vic. It is what you are I am sorry but that will never be something I desire of either of you. If you would submit to me, I would accept it but tell me honestly...tonight, what is it you wish Anders? To be taken, given all I have equally? Bend to my whims, tell me what you need tonight.” Fenris tipped his chin up and gazed into his eyes with no censure, nothing but curiosity and desire.

Anders stared up at him. “Take me with gentleness,” he said quietly. “Show me that - that you care for me, with touch. I have only one condition - I will not submit to a collar. But anything else... I will trust you.” He bowed his head and whispered, “ _Ser._ ”

“Is it difficult to call me ser? If so, I would not have you do things that make you uncomfortable. Vic...calls me domne for many reasons, but I do not expect that of you.” Fenris asked softly as he scooted back so he could rise once he had his answer.

“It doesn’t come easily,” Anders admitted. “I’m not sure I could ever give you the full submission that Invictus does - not in that way. It... comes too close to-” He broke off and closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t think I can. But... I cannot be your pet, but I would willingly submit to anything up to that point.” He lifted his head and stared at Fenris. “You may bind me, but not blindfold me - at least, not yet. And never collar me. But you may take me, and I will be gladly taken.”

“Then you can just call my name. I would not distress you Anders. Follow me to the guest room, if you prefer there or would you prefer the master bedroom?” Fenris stood and offered his hand to the mage, unsure if he was going down a path that was too rocky to navigate for long or if he’d made a good choice for them all.

Anders accepted his hand and rose to his feet. “Whichever makes you most comfortable,” he said.

“The guest room for now, but if you wish to sleep with Vic and I it’s ...alright.” Fenris led them to the guest room and shut the door, his gaze hungry as he watched Anders. “Talk to me, tell me what you like as we go, I want this to be good for both of us.” 

Anders shed his feathered coat, folding it carefully despite its tatty appearance, and laid it gently to one side. He eyed the elf then began to slowly unbutton his shirt, eyes never leaving Fenris’ as his fingers worked their way down, exposing his skin to view. He shrugged the linen off his shoulders and stood there silently, the fabric pooling about his wrists, torso bared.

“You’re wearing too much,” he said quietly.

“So I am.” the elf replied as he slipped his tunic off and untied the laces to his trousers, sliding them off and kicked them away. “Better?”

Anders smiled slowly as he walked backwards towards the bed, unlacing his pants. When his calves hit the bed, he sat down and began to unbuckle his boots one after the other, toeing them off slowly as he regarded Fenris through the stray locks of hair that had come loose from his ponytail. He placed his boots to one side then reached up and undid the leather thong that tied his hair back, shaking the dark gold hair free. He lifted a hand and gestured silently to the elf, beckoning him towards him.

Fenris stalked over to the bed and crawled over Anders until he was face to face with the former Warden, his expression hungry and his body tight with need and desire. He leaned in and hovered, close enough to kiss but not closing the gap. “May I?”

Anders smiled then lifted his head, closing the gap between them as he brushed his lips over Fenris’. “Thought you’d never ask,” he breathed.

The elf kissed him, a low moan built in his throat as he explored Anders carefully until he needed air, then he sat back with a grin. “Different...but good, this is good.” Fenris said quietly, he shook his head slightly so he would stop comparing the two mages, it wasn’t the same. 

Anders smiled encouragingly at the elven warrior. “I seem to be slightly overdressed still,” he said quietly, gesturing at his pants.

Fenris reached down and undid the ties, then stood so he could finish disrobing the taller man. He stood in reach of the mage, his hands resting on Anders shoulders and his expression open, almost needy. “I can’t...believe I am actually ...nervous.” he huffed. 

Anders’ expression softened. He ran his hands gently up Fenris’ torso, carefully avoiding the brands. “Kiss me again,” he suggested gently.

The elf did that, dipping his head down and kissing the blond, nudging him back until they were chest to chest, Fenris taking short, panting breaths in between kisses. Anders made small sounds each time Fenris pulled away, halfway between a pant and a moan, and he reached up and threaded his fingers into Fenris’ hair, though he didn’t try to pull him down.

“Talk to me…” the elf said as he peppered the mage with kisses and ground himself against Anders. Anders lifted his own hips to grind himself against Fenris, their erections rubbing together with delicious frisson. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Anders positively purred. “Your eyes are like fire... I could drown myself in them. You feel so good... can’t wait to feel you inside me....” He arched his back and threw his head back with a low, needy moan.

“Not...gorgeous.” Fenris demured as he moaned and tried to keep his eyes open. “Want, oh ...oh, want you.” the elf whimpered as he bucked against Anders. “Tell me dirty things…” he whispered in Tevene. 

Anders obliged, writhing almost obscenely under the elf as he breathed the most filthy phrases in Tevene that he could dredge up from memory, things he wanted the elf to do to him and things he could do for Fenris in turn. He reached down and encircled both their cocks together with one firm hand and began to pump slowly, flicking his thumb over the slit at the tip of Fenris’ glans with each upstroke.

Fenris hissed in pleasure and moaned as he was stroked. “More… in your mother ...tongue.” he whimpered. “Fuck…”

Anders closed his eyes. He had not spoken his mother tongue since they took him to the Circle when he was twelve; they had beaten that out of him. Yet as he thought back, the old once-familiar words shaped themselves on his lips; haltingly at first, then with growing fluency.

Fenris knew only a few words uttered in his ear but it was enough to make him moan in response, filthy things he knew Anders would understand in Trade or Tevene. He bucked hard against the mage’s grip and leaned down to bite his ear. “Want...you...in you.” he rasped.

Anders closed his eyes and concentrated, drawing briefly on his magic as he briefly cast a certain spell pretty much all mages in Kinlock Hold had become proficient at sooner or later, and the palm of his free hand filled with a clear oily liquid. He slicked both their cocks before arching his back to reach behind, slipping a finger inside himself.

Fenris rocked wantonly as he felt Anders’ grip on him falter while he stretched himself. He finally opened his eyes to watch as Anders worked himself open. “Fuck...I want you.”

Anders let his head drop back, eyes closed and lips parted as he slipped a second finger inside, working his fingers in and out, preparing himself for Fenris. His eyes drifted half open as he spread his legs and drew his knees up slightly. “All... yours,” he panted.

Fenris smiled and positioned himself so he could enter Anders in one smooth stroke, his voice hitched as he slid his hips back and pulled out until he was nearly free of Anders then slid back in slow, repeating the motion so he could watch Anders unravel beneath him. 

Anders wound his hands into the sheets, gripping tightly as he cried out softly. “Oh... Maker... Fenris,” he moaned, arching to meet each stroke, each breath panted between small needy cries.

The elf moaned his name in response, each stroke a torment when all he wanted to do was rut hard and fast, make Anders scream out in pleasure but his vow to be gentle, to show him he was cared for was not to be broken. Fenris fought his own climax as he tried to get Anders to go first.

Anders ground himself down into each thrust, biting his lip as he felt heat and tension growing in his groin, each stroke bringing him closer to the edge. “More,” he managed to gasp. “Please....”

That was all the encouragement Fenris needed to give in to his base desires, and shag Anders so hard the headboard clapped a steady rhythm against the wall, counterpoint to the noises the elf made as he headed towards his own orgasm. “Fuck...Anders...Anders.” he called as he tried to hold back. “Can’t…”

As Fenris’ movements took on a heated urgency, Anders surrendered to the flood of sensations that raced through him as he writhed in wanton abandon beneath the elven warrior. He finally threw his head back with a hoarse cry, Fenris’ name upon his lips as he came hard, spilling his seed between their bodies.

The elven warrior was right behind him, filling Anders and calling out in Tevene and Trade as he jerked his hips erratically, spending himself and laying over the blond’s chest. He didn’t want to move, but he felt the mage’s still hard cock against his stomach. “How...are you still hard?” he muttered.

“Warden stamina,” gasped the mage. “It’s a curse.” He panted, eyes closed, as he reached up a hand that trembled faintly, threading his fingers into Fenris’ soft white hair.

“Handy curse, I’m usually ...more able but I did shag Vic until he fell over earlier. Care...for a ride?” the elf ventured quietly as he bumped his head against Anders’ hand. Anders chuckled as he stroked Fenris’ hair, trailing a finger along one delicate upswept ear. 

“Now who’s the cat?” he smiled. “My body is willing but tired,” he confessed. “I’m perhaps not entirely restored myself. And I’m not sure your body is going to be too happy if you push it; I can feel your heart racing.”

“I did just come…” Fenris moaned slightly before he slumped against Anders. “I’ll be good and not overdo it.” he said sullenly. “Though you should do something about that.”

Anders lifted his head far enough to gently kiss the elf. “It was perfect, love,” he said quietly. “Let’s get cleaned up, and then we can fall over and sleep. Do you want to stay here, or shall we go to your room?”

“My room, don’t want to leave Vic out. Maybe he can take care of you before sleep.” Fenris mumbled before he forced himself up and off the bed. Anders pushed himself up onto his elbows and watched as Fenris stumbled to the wash stand, returning with cloths and water. Anders gestured and heated the water, then they gently washed each other clean.

“Come on,” said Anders. “Let’s go fall over. Invictus must be wondering if you were killing me in here, with all the noise we were making.”

“He’s made more noise than that.” Fenris said without thinking. He entered the room and fell into the middle of the bed and sighed happily. Vic just arched an eyebrow at them both, unsure what he’d done to wear out the elf so thoroughly.

He did notice that Anders was still tumescent and smiled at him. “I’d have thought you’d worn each other out with all the banging. Need a hand?” he smirked at the other mage. 

“Not over me, someone move.” came from the bedding.

“The bane of a warden’s existence,” sighed Anders. “Besides, y’know - the whole darkspawn killing, dying young thing. And the nightmares.” He slumped into a chair and smiled at Invictus. “But if you’re offering....”

The darker of the two men came over and claimed Anders mouth in a bruising kiss. “Tell me about it while I suck you off.” he growled before he sunk to his knees and lifted Anders nightshirt. 

Fenris rolled over to watch but didn’t move to do more than peek his head out from the covers.

“I’m not sure I- _ohhhhhh,_ ” breathed Anders as Invictus’ mouth enclosed his shaft, the sensation of hot, soft, inviting wetness drawing him in completely breaking his train of thought. His hands lifted to Invictus’ head, simply resting there, not seeking to guide the other mage as Anders’ head dropped back to rest against the back of the chair. He moaned, lost in sensation.

Vic pulled back to get air and to look up at Anders. “Can’t talk? Or am I just that good?” he smirked before he spread his own legs and stroked himself. “It was so hard not to come in and beg to join you. Love, tell me how Anders was since the mage has his tongue, and cock.” Vic pleaded before he went back to sucking off the former warden.

Anders cried out softly as he was drawn back into Invictus’ mouth, his hips moving to rise towards each downstroke; he was fighting hard against the urge to snap his hips faster and ravish that delicious hotness that threatened to overwhelm him as he felt a second orgasm building inside. He breathily moaned Invictus’ name, head thrown back and eyes closed.

Fenris spoke in Tevene, his voice low and sultry in the way he knew Vic liked it as he watched Anders fight to hold back coming while he was deep in the other man’s throat. He gave Vic permission to come after Anders filled his mouth.

The elf’s words penetrated the sweet waves of pleasure rippling through Anders as he crested closer and closer to climax, and that was all he needed. With a ragged scream he came, his hot seed filling Invictus’ mouth and throat as the blond apostate’s body jerked and shuddered, riding out the throes of climax.

Vic pulled back and swallowed as he stroked himself quickly. “Can I...will you swallow for me?” he begged as he stood and stroked furiously.

With an effort, Anders lifted his head to stare up at the other mage. Chest still heaving from the exertion of two orgasms in swift succession, he nonetheless dropped to his knees before Invictus, lips parting for the mage’s cock.

Vic wasn’t gentle as he slid home in Anders mouth, pumping quickly as his orgasm started, his eyes closing and his voice rising as he felt the pulling in his groin. “Maker… oh Maker… yes.” Anders’ hands clutched at Invictus’ hips to steady himself as the other mage pumped frantically into his mouth. He relaxed his jaw, taking Invictus right down into his throat as he worked his flesh with his tongue then swallowed. His lips were reddened and swollen by the repeated fierce thrusts and he closed his eyes.

Invictus growled and called out as he started to fill the other mages mouth, his hips jerked out of reflex until he stilled and steadied himself against Anders until he calmed himself. He pulled away gently, helped the other mage up then kissed him to taste of himself before he tugged Anders to bed. Anders collapsed onto the bed in a boneless sprawl, exhausted.

Vic washed up and quickly and brought a warm, wet cloth over to clean Anders off before he crawled into bed on the other side next to Fenris. “Are you pleased domne?” he murmured in the elf’s ear as Anders curled up slightly on his side, falling asleep within seconds.

 

“Yes, now go to sleep.” Fenris replied before he turned over and closed his eyes, exhausted and sated from a very busy day.

**

Anders slowly drifted towards waking. As his eyes slowly fluttered open, he was aware of an empty space where the elf had rested. He lifted his head and glanced round. A brief glance told him Invictus was still out for the count. He sat up.

Fenris mumbled something when he heard Anders stirring but didn’t really speak until he nudged Vic awake. “Lazy mage, going to sleep the day away?” he said fondly with a caress to the short, dark locks.

“No...no ser.” Vic said as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He kissed the elf’s palms and leaned up for a kiss. “Forgive me domne, but last night wore me out. What will you have of me today?”

“Not much, you usually arise with me. I’ll be in the kitchen after you’ve fully awakened. Bring Anders with you, I know he’s awake too.” with that Fenris kissed his forehead and sauntered out of the bedroom, a spring in his step that Vic had worried he’d never see again just a couple days before.

Anders drew his knees up beneath the covers and wrapped his arms around them, resting the side of his face on his knees as he regarded Invictus. “You’re going to have to explain this whole... ser, domne thing to me,” said Anders quietly.

“I have to do nothing, but if you ask me I will explain a bit.” Vic said with a voice thick from sleep. 

“Well... if we three are going to be in a relationship together, me understanding is going to be fairly important. Fenris made it clear to me he doesn’t expect it from me, but I don’t quite understand the whole power dynamic you two have going on. I don’t want to make a mistake somewhere that could hurt any of us just because there’s something I didn’t know or understand.” Anders brushed his hair back out of his eyes, his amber eyes thoughtful.

“I have given myself to him fully, in all ways Anders. I...enjoy the freedom of submission and I know he won’t hurt me, not intentionally. I’m ...I’m dangerous and magic can be used to harm, so I willingly gave myself to Fenris. He didn’t beat me into submission nor does he abuse me if you were thinking along those lines.” Vic picked at the comforter, his gaze anywhere but on the blond apostate next to him. 

“I wasn’t, but it’s good to know nonetheless,” said Anders. “It just seems... so out of character from how you are when away from the estate. You’re always the leader of our group and Fenris obeys you almost without question. The complete and total reversal is... it’s a little hard to get my head round,” admitted Anders. “It’s like there are two different Hawkes.”

“Maybe there are...maybe it happened when Bethany died, or when father died. I couldn’t protect them, or mother. I don’t know but ...it’s easier, better this way for me. Here I am not the Champion, I am not anyone’s leader, or problem solver. In this home, I’m his and he can do whatever he pleases because...it’s ...it’s … just how it is.” Vic leaned his cheek against his knees and huffed. The conversation was taking him to a place he didn’t like going to, where his guilt ate at him and made him curl up and away from the world.

Anders frowned slightly. “So... you’re basically afraid of yourself, enough to hand control over to someone you think is a... what, a safekeeper? A guardian? Fenris is protecting you from yourself?”

“From everyone else, I am not good, or kind, or anything people think of me. I am dangerous, the power in my blood even more so. I cannot be trusted with myself or with those close to me Anders. It’s...they all think more of me than I can ever be. I am nothing and here, is where I remember that so I don’t get caught up in the arrogance the world sees. I know my place.” Vic said quietly, eyes closed and lashes wet from tears he tried to hold back.

“That sounds very familiar,” said Anders slowly. “It sounds like the things I said to myself and heard from both you and Fenris when Justice took me over and I killed Ella. Yet you didn’t hand me over to the Templars or drag me to the Gallows. Why?”

“You were useful, and as long as you stayed away I could pretend I wasn’t just like you. That I wasn’t just like any other mage that could be tempted or swayed or give in to the desire for power. I could pretend I wasn’t dangerous if I kept no other mages in my company. It works Anders, it keeps me from becoming what hurt Fenris, what makes us evil in the eyes of the Chantry. Does it bother you, my submission to one who was a slave of the Imperium?” Vic asked quietly.

Anders regarded him thoughtfully before answering. “That you choose willing enslavement? It’s not my place to be bothered or uncomfortable with it. The reasons behind it though... it’s not healthy, Invictus, and _that_ bothers me. Not because of any negative impact it will have on me, but because I’m worried about and for you.”

“Why? Is it not fitting I should suffer for what I’ve done to you, other mages in the past? For my failure to keep my family safe...mother alive?” Vic sniffed then turned away so Anders could not see him breaking.

“You are not Quentin. Your mother was a grown woman who made her own choices. What would you have done - locked her up so she could never leave the house?” Anders shook his head. “How does enslaving yourself to Fenris make amends for what you’ve done? Do you think a single mage you’ve sent to the Gallows will honestly give a rat’s arse about you calling an elf ‘domne’ when some templar is-” He broke off and clutched his hands in his hair, aware his voice had risen and he was breathing hard. He glanced away, closing his eyes as he breathed through his nose and tried to calm himself down.

“It doesn’t matter does it? No matter my penance it will never be enough and I will never serve out a sentence of my own choosing. I should go, Fenris will wonder what kept us.” Vic’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion as he rose and pulled on a house robe and found his slippers. 

“I need a few minutes here,” muttered Anders, not opening his eyes.

“Very well, there’s a spare robe in there if you want it. It’s drafty until the kitchen warms up.” Vic said as he left the room, his mind uneasy as he made his way down to the kitchen and served himself breakfast.

Anders waited until he heard Invictus’ steps going down the stairs, and then he slowly uncurled himself, still fighting to bring his breathing back under control. “You selfish, selfish bastard,” he muttered to himself, hands curling into fists. “Damn you - and damn me for caring.”

He swung his long legs out of the bed then made his way down the hall to the guest room, uncaring of the chill air that ghosted over his bare skin. He dressed in his pants and shirt, slinging his tattered and worn old coat over his shoulder then bending to buckle his boots on. He glanced around for the leather thong he customarily tied his hair back with then swore as he failed to find it. Giving it up as a bad job he combed his hair as best he could with his fingers then headed down toward the kitchen, mood sombre and withdrawn.

Fenris had just sat down after failing to get Invictus to stay put for breakfast together. He looked up when Anders entered, his frown turning to a scowl when he saw how the other mage looked. “Morning.” he said carefully.

Anders glanced up, his expression softening as he stared at Fenris. “Morning,” he replied, draping his tatty coat over the back of a chair before helping himself to a mug of tea. He sat at the table, cradling the hot cup between his hands.

“So whos’ going to tell me why Vic looked like I kicked Malum and you look like you want to rant at the next poor soul you come across.”

Anders rested his elbows on the table and slid his hands into his hair, staring down into his cup with a sigh. “It was me, I guess,” he said quietly. “I asked him about all this ‘ser’ and ‘domne’ business and got this whole tale of guilt and.... He said it was his punishment for not saving his family, for what he’d done to other mages. I... may have gotten somewhat heated,” he admitted. “I... said that the mages he sent to the Gallows won’t have given a rat’s arse about what you two do together when the templars got their hands on them.” He kept his head down, staring at the reflection of his own troubled eyes in the surface of the drink.

“What do you mean, guilt about his family? That’s not why...he’s …” Fenris let his hands drop to the table and he stared at Anders as he turned over what the other mage had said. “Explain.” 

Anders lifted his head enough to stare at the elf. “He blames himself for the deaths of his father, mother and sister. He feels guilt for the fate of every mage he ever sent to the Gallows, even what he did to me. And he thinks that he is dangerous and his penance is to enslave himself willingly to you.” He winced.

“Lies...Invictus would not do that. It’s...it’s not that, I would never agree if it was that.” Fenris rasped as he glared at the other mage. 

Anders leaned back in his seat, hands pushing at the tabletop, fear flaring in his amber eyes. “It’s not lies, I swear it - on my life Fenris, I am not lying to you!”

“Why would he confide that to you, and not me?” the elf snapped, his eyes dark with anger and hurt. If it was true...he’d done far more harm than good to his lover.

Anders’ eyes widened, the colour draining from his face. “I-I-I don’t know,” he stammered. “Fenris, please, I swear I am not lying to you. I don’t know why he didn’t share this with you, honestly!”

“If I find you are deceiving me you will wish you’d been given to the Gallows when I am done with you mage.” Fenris snarled before he stood up.

Anders shook his head wordlessly, lifting his hands in mute surrender.

The elf glared at him before he tore up the stairs bellowing for Invictus as he went. “Invictus Endrin Hawke, where are you?”

Anders slumped in his chair, dropping his head to his hands with a low moan. “Oh Maker he’s going to kill me,” he breathed. “Stupid, stupid Anders. Why couldn’t you just shut your damned fool mouth?”

Hawke was in their room, huddled under the covers as he hoped Fenris gave up on looking for him. From the way his name was being called, he feared the other mage had spilled their conversation. He remained still and hoped the elf wouldn’t check there.

Anders pushed the mug away, feeling sick to his stomach, expecting the elf to come back any minute. His back itched, anticipating the feel of Fenris’ hand phasing through him to grasp his heart. He was certain it would be very painful. He bit his lip.

Invictus winced when the door slammed open and the covers were pulled off him. He looked up to see an expression he didn’t like on his lovers face, and it frightened him. “Sorry, I …”

Whatever Vic was going to say was cut off by a low growl. “Invictus you have some explaining to do, and so help me if I have to drag Anders up here by the ear to confirm what he said I will do it. How...how could you confide in him and not me? Is it because I’m not a mage? What Invictus? WHAT?” he said, pain laced in his voice as he stared at the man who had his heart as surely as he held Vic’s.

Downstairs, Anders winced as the sounds of shouting drifted back down the stairs. He got up slowly and made his way to the foot of the stairs, staring up with dread in his heart.

“Love...please stop screaming.” Vic begged as he lay there, afraid to move or even blink in the face of his lover’s anger. 

“No...no Invictus. Why would you confide such things to _him_ and not me?” Fenris replied in a cracking, broken rasp. 

Unwillingly, Anders found himself taking the first step up the stairs, then the next, drawn in spite of all his instincts screaming at him to get out, run, leave his staff - he could always find another somewhere. His death might very well be in that room - and yet the screaming was his fault. If he’d held his tongue, Fenris would have been none the wiser.

And yet, as a healer he knew full well the only way to deal with a suppurating sore was to lance it and let the poison out. His words were the blade, Invictus’ guilt the poison. But would Fenris see it that way?

“It just ...came out. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry love. Please stop yelling at me, please.” Vic begged as he looked up at Fenris with fear for the first time in ages. 

The elf moved back when he saw how Invictus shrank from him. “I will never harm you, do not shirk away in fear Vic.” he said quietly.

Anders made his way up the stairs then halted at the top in an agony of indecision.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to betray your trust or you. Please let’s forget I said anything and go back to how it was. It’s better that way, please Fenris.” Vic pleaded.

The blond apostate paused near the open door of the bedroom and bit his lip.

“No, it is not better that I go on unwittingly abusing you in penance for your past. Of everyone in this house you didn’t think I would understand that need Invictus? I thought ...I thought it was a game you wanted just at home, not that. Not punishment for your supposed failures. You’re a good man, why would you do this to yourself, to me… to us? Why Vic… why would you use me as your destruction?” Fenris’ voice did crack then, his pain tangible in how he looked at his lover.

Anders leaned against the wall outside the bedroom, closing his eyes against the pain in the elf’s voice. What right did he have to be here? Maybe it would have been better if he had never stayed. Maybe it would be better if he went now. Yet something kept him there, held him against the wall as surely as any physical bonds.

Vic sat up and covered his face as he spoke, shame colouring every word. “You wouldn’t have agreed, it’s what I deserve Fenris. It’s what I deserve for failing Bethany, mother...you, myself. Please don’t take this away from me.” 

Anders tasted blood on his lip. He turned his face away from the open door. He didn’t belong here.

Fenris turned when he heard a noise. “ANders if you are out there, stop fucking eavesdropping and come in here.”

Vic shook his head and backpedaled. “No, I can’t see him right now. I just want to forget that conversation happened and go back to being your pet. Please.” 

Fenris sucked in a breath and hissed at the dark skinned mage. “No, no you are not just going back to being my pet. Not after all this.” When Anders didn’t come in, Fenris went to the hall and yanked him into the room by the collar and flung him down on the bed. “You...you got this out of him, so you fucking fix it.”

Anders fell heavily onto the bed with a low cry, blood running down his chin from where he’d bitten his lip through. He lifted his head slowly, hesitantly, eyes dark with guilt and remorse. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to Invictus.

“Right...sorry.” Vic snarled as he turned to sneer at Anders. “So fix me then, you heard him.”

Anders shook his head. “I can’t,” he said truthfully. “You did this to yourself. I can’t fix you. You have to want to be fixed. Right now you’re scared and angry - you both are - and I’m a convenient scapegoat. But I’m not the one who turned you into Fenris’ pet without ever telling him the true reason why.”

He lifted his head further and stared over his shoulder at Fenris. “And I can’t fix the lack of trust between you two. No matter what you do to me, taking your anger out on me won’t fix it.” He glanced back at Invictus again. “The real question is, do you want to fix it?”

“I’m sure I’ll get no say in whether I fix it or not.” Vic said sullenly. 

“I’m not taking my anger out on you, but don’t you dare stand out there and listen like this is some performance.” Fenris said quietly. He looked to his lover and sighed. “I’m going for a walk to clear my head, when I get home I would like to talk to you.”

Anders let his head drop down onto the bed, burying his face against the down comforter, probing the bite wound with his tongue but saying nothing.

“As you wish Fenris.” Vic said mulishly. “Anders...Maker...why did you say anything?” 

Anders merely drew his arms up around his head and stayed silent, fighting the urge to curl into a ball. The shouting had brought up unpleasant associations in his mind, and his heart was racing. He couldn’t quite seem to draw enough breath, and waves of nausea rolled through him.

This wasn’t the Circle. Fenris and Invictus weren’t templars. But the threat of violence hung heavily in the air and old ingrained habits and instinctive responses were difficult to overcome.

Fenris got dressed and left, his mind racing and his heart hurting for what he’d unwittingly done to Vic. 

Once the elf had left, Invictus sighed and looked to the other mage. “No one is going to hit you, stop that.”

Anders lay still for several minutes before he shifted his head slightly, peering through his hair at Invictus, still fighting to control his breathing and heart.

“So why, why did you tell him?” the other mage asked as he slid from the bed and rummaged for something to wear.

“He knew something was up when I entered the kitchen,” he said quietly, trying to will away the faint tremor in his voice, the wheezing gasp for breath. “Either I told him or he was going to drag it out of you.” 

“It’s never going to be the same again.” Vic said harshly. 

Anders lifted his head slightly to watch Invictus. “He would have found out sooner or later, or figured it out for himself. How much worse do you think it would be a year, two years, five years from now?” He stared at the other mage, oblivious to the blood smeared across his lips and chin.

“No idea, and he wouldn’t have. I made sure of it.” Invictus tied his tunic shut and sat on the bed, utterly defeated. “What now? He wants to talk, I want to run and you should wipe your face.” 

“What?” said Anders distractedly as he lifted a hand to his face then looked at the blood on his fingers. “Oh.” He wiped at his mouth and chin with the sleeve of his shirt, then felt cautiously at his swollen lip. “So you’re going to run away again then? Don’t you realise what you’ve been doing with Fenris was just another way of running away? Trust me, I’m a master of running away. I know it when I see it.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I don’t want to make this worse by not being home when he gets back. This is going to wreck him you realize?” Vic said quietly. “Might as well lay back down, I don’t want to do anything else right now.”

Anders sat up. “I wasn’t the one who lied to him,” he said quietly. “You won’t pin this on me; these are your own pigeons coming home to roost, Invictus Hawke.” He dabbed again at his lip with the cuff of his sleeve.

“Wasn’t pinning it on you, believe me I know this is all my fault. I’ve known it every time I look in the mirror after he leaves the house, when I’m alone. I know Anders, believe me I know this is all me.” Vic replied.

Anders stared at the bloodstains on his sleeve, his hands in his lap. “Do you realise, if you had denied it, Fenris would likely have killed me? He didn’t believe me. Didn’t _want_ to believe me.”

“He would have yes, I didn’t think you were going to tell him minutes after we’d spoken either.” Vic said, his voice tired and strained. 

“You know full well I can’t bluff worth a damn,” said Anders, his voice also weary. “He knew something was up, the moment he looked at my face. And I’m sorry, Invictus, but I’m not going to lie - for you, or anyone else.”

“It’s out there now, it doesn’t matter Anders. I just hope he can stand to remain with me after this.” the darker man said before he laid on his side and stared at Anders. “It’ just as well, I don’t deserve to be happy after all I’ve failed at.”

Anders stood and glanced back at him. “Out it comes, the pity party,” he said tonelessly. “Hawke, I can honestly say you are the most self-centred man I’ve ever met.” He turned and walked towards the door, shoulders slumped.

“Because I accept I have failed everyone I care for? That makes me self centered?” he asked, confused by the other man’s anger.

Anders paused by the door, one hand on the frame. He turned, an incredulous look on his face. “You really don’t see it, do you?” he said. “All I’m hearing from you is ‘poor me, everything will change’, ‘poor me, Fenris is so angry with me’, ‘poor me, I’ve fucked up my whole life, I’ll just lie here and wallow’. Everything you’ve ever done has been for Hawke. All to make life easier - for Hawke. You _lied_ to Fenris about what you were doing to your relationship, and all you can do is cry over how it’s ruined everything because now he knows - but _you_ ruined it when you told that first lie!” 

He turned and walked back toward the other mage. “Even when you consider what this will do to Fenris, you somehow make it sound like it’s someone else’s fault. Do I realise? Yes, I bloody well do!” He wasn’t shouting. His voice never rose above a quiet tenor, which somehow made his cold anger all the worse. “And not once have you even thought what this would do to me, have you? You put me right in the middle of this whole damned mess, and Fenris could have killed me - all because you couldn’t tell him the truth.” He stared down at Hawke.

“Do you really care so little for me that you would stand by and let me die at your lover’s hands rather than admit the truth?” he whispered. “Look me in the eye, Invictus Hawke. Would you have lied and watched me die?”

“No, I wouldn’t have let you die.” Vic said brokenly, his gaze on Anders despite the urge to curl up and hide, to not face his calm facade, too much like Fenris when the elf got truly incensed with him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Anders.”

Anders’ eyes softened slightly, his expression becoming one of sadness. “What happens now?” he said quietly. “Where do I stand in this whole wretched mess? Am I to just go back to my clinic like an unwanted cast-off and forget any of this ever happened?”

“I don’t know.” Invictus said honestly as he finally looked away and gave up on holding his composure. “Don’t leave me alone, please.”

Anders merely stared at him. After a moment, he turned away, crossing the room to stand by the window, looking down into the garden with his arms folded, back stiff and radiating tension.

“Anders...please I can’t take this, help me.” Vic sobbed, his shame and attempt to remain calm out the window with the other mage’s indifference.

Anders slammed one hand flat against the glass pane and bowed his head, unmoving. 

“I let myself care for you.” The words were a merest whisper. “Both of you. I broke the rule of the Circle and let you both in. I was such a fool.”

Invictus rubbed at his face and left the room for the study where he shut and locked the door so no one would see him fall to pieces, the mask he wore crumbled to dust as he sat before the hearth and watched the flames dance. Fenris’ pain and Anders rage had hacked through the careful facade and all that was left was the failure he knew himself to be.

Anders closed his eyes and finally let the tears fall, alone once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We haven't forgotten about Arden and Company! These three were just kind of chatty this chapter.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demons abound, feelings are hard and the game is afoot between the Imperial Chantry and one apostate warden.

Anders slept deeply that night; Arden was awake hours before the healer finally opened his eyes. The Champion had already dressed, breakfasted and addressed the mounting pile of letters that accrued daily for his attention by the time he asked Fenris to go check on Anders.

“He’s still asleep?” Fenris muttered as he slipped a marker into his book and rose to wake their lover.

“So it would seem; I haven’t heard any movement from upstairs.” Arden frowned at a missive that bore the seal of the First Enchanter.

“Hopefully he will be awake when I get up there, he’s a pain to get out of bed when he’s sound asleep.” the elf muttered as he headed out of the study.

Anders was awake, barely, when Fenris entered the room. He was sprawled on the very edge of the bed, lying on his stomach, one hand trailing on the floor as his eyes stared at nothing.

“Love?” Fenris asked quietly, concerned with how listless the mage seemed.

“Hmm?” murmured Anders, slowly coming back to himself as he rolled over onto his back and glanced at Fenris. He blinked drowsily. “I think I was dreaming.”

“About what?” the elf asked as he came and sat with his lover. “Arden is worried that you’ve slept so long.”

Anders rolled his head on the pillow to stare at the canopy. “I’m not entirely sure,” he said slowly, voice still slurred slightly from sleep. “There was a woman... and a man... no, two men? I forget. They weren’t important though... I saw a man with blood-red hair.” He frowned slightly. “He... said something, something important, but I don’t remember what.”

“Blood red hair? Isn’t that what Arden described?” Fenris reached out and carded his fingers through the mage’s dark blond hair. 

“Is it?” said Anders drowsily. “I don’t remember.” His eyes fluttered shut.

“What’s wrong with you?” Fenris said, his voice a bit high as he watched Anders laze around like a cat.

“Go ‘way,” slurred Anders. “Let me sleep.”

“No, get up Anders it’s well past the second afternoon bell. What’s wrong with you?” Fenris tugged at him to rise. Anders batted weakly at Fenris’ hands.

“Tired. Sleepy. Go ‘way.”

“ _Venhedis_...this is not normal.” Fenris muttered as he hauled Anders to his feet and tried to get the mage to come around. “You’re not a layabout, come on love...please you’re scaring me.” the elf said.

Anders’ eyes flickered open. “What’re you doing?” he said, frowning in confusion. He shook his head as though to clear it, putting one hand to his forehead groggily. “Stop whispering, damn it....”

“I’m not whispering, Anders...who’s whispering to you? Come on, _fasta vass_ \- wake up!” The elf shouted in his ear.

Anders cried out in alarm, his fingers clutching at Fenris’ tunic as his eyes flew open. “What - I’m dreaming... no... Fenris?”

“This is most disappointing,” sighed a sibilant voice from the shadows on the opposite side of the bed. “His dreams were most delicious and now you have disturbed my feast.”

Fenris’ eyes widened and he looked over Anders shoulder at the creature. “Arden, Arden get up here now!” he screamed as he hauled Anders behind him and lit up like a beacon. Anders stumbled and fell to his knees behind Fenris, one hand catching himself before he could sprawl on his face. There was the sound of racing footsteps and then Arden burst into the room, his staff already blazing with power.

A strange, slug-like creature oozed into view, its single eye glowing a baleful red as spindly little arms waved in almost hypnotic slow patterns. “This is most regrettable,” it hissed slowly.

“Sloth demon,” said Arden tersely. “Take it down fast before it can ensnare you.” He gestured with his hand and a lightning bolt hit the demon in the midsection of its body; it writhed and screamed. “Go!” shouted Arden.

Fenris snarled and ghosted over to the creature and struck the thing’s chest in an effort to rip out what would pass for it’s heart. He grabbed hold of something beating and pulled, stumbling backwards so Arden could get a clean shot with more lightning.

Arden duly obliged, even as Anders pulled himself together enough to touch a hand to his forehead and unleash a spirit blast. The combined attack caused the demon to explode outwards in a mess of ichor and slimy flesh. 

“Everyone alright?” said Arden, wiping his sleeve over his face and blinking. From somewhere behind Fenris came the sound of Anders noisily retching.

Fenris flung the creature’s organ away with a look of disgust then joined his lover in sending his breakfast and lunch on a return trip.

Arden glanced between them with concern, not sure which of his lovers he should attend to first.

Fenris pulled himself to his feet and went into the bathing chamber to start a bath, then lie down. Arden watched him go, then knelt to help Anders upright.

“Maker, it was... in my dreams,” said Anders, horrified. “I could hear it, feel it touching me, but I just couldn’t seem to wake up.”

“Don’t think about it,” said Arden. “Come on, let’s go get you cleaned up.” He pulled Anders to his feet then led him to the bathing chamber.

Fenris was already in the tub, scrubbing furiously at the dark red and black ichor that covered his arm, not to mention the gibbets of ooze in his hair and on his face. “We’re moving.” he snarled as he tried to clean his nails of demon ichor.

Arden led Anders to a stool and drew a bucket of water, heating it with a gesture before he started sluicing the mess off Anders’ body. He gently nudged Anders’ chin until the mage obediently tilted his head back so Arden could pour clean water through his hair and start washing it. Somehow the Champion had managed to avoid the worst of the explosion, only a few bloody splatters across his face.

“I’m not moving from this house,” said Arden quietly. “Mother fought too hard for the right to reclaim it, and I shed blood to help win it for her. I’ll not be driven away.”

“Then I might if one more fucking demon shows up.” Fenris muttered angrily.

“Someone sent that demon,” said Arden slowly. Anders’ eyes opened slowly as he stared up at Arden. The Champion glanced over at Fenris. “Someone deliberately sent it here for Anders.”

“Who though?” the elf muttered before he looked up to his lovers. “Do you think ...Merrill might have because you burned the Arulin’holm?”

“Then why target Anders instead of me?” asked Arden as he rinsed Anders’ hair.

“It’s no secret how you protect us. Perhaps if she took someone you love in retribution?” Fenris queried.

Arden stared at Fenris, then abruptly dropped the bucket and flung his arms around a very startled and wet Anders. “First the Imperial Chantry, then demons? They shan’t have you!” declared Arden as he clung tightly to the other mage. He lifted his head and stared hard at Fenris. “Either of you,” he added.

“They are welcome to try.” Fenris snarled with a fearsome expression that had sent many men to their ends.

“Easy, love,” gasped Anders. “Let me breathe.”

“Let him go, and I’m going to check on Hal then I’m going to break into the Starkhaven Single Malt I was keeping.” 

Arden released his hold on Anders, mutely kissing his forehead in apology as Anders drew breath. 

“I think I might-” began Anders then frowned, shaking his head. “No. I need to soak the rest of this filth off me,” he said abruptly, standing and making his way over to the tub.

Fenris muttered under his breath the whole way down to check on Hal in the servants quarters. “Hal, are you awake?” he called softly.

“I am,” replied the Tranquil mage quietly. He glanced up from the small book he was reading.

“Are you well, did you eat today? We did not mean to neglect you for so long, are you healed?” the elf asked worriedly.

“I am physically healed. Orana gave me food.” Hal laid the book aside. “Am I required for duties?”

“I...perhaps you can assist with helping us clean the guest room, I need something to do as well.” Fenris muttered. 

“Should I wear something other than these robes?” asked Hal as he rose to his feet and stared down at the Chantry robes.

“Yes, those will get filthy. I will have Orana give you something to wear that can be burned after then join us in the guest room.” Fenris led him to her and after getting him started with their servant he changed into a ratty vest and pants that he didn’t mind losing before he got a bucket, some brushes and soap. 

“Out, Hal and I are going to clean up. You two go find something to do.” the elf muttered as he looked around the guest room and tried to figure out where to even begin.

Hal seemed to have no such hesitation. Dressed in what Fenris recognised as a faded old shirt and pants of Arden’s and barefoot, his long hair neatly braided and tied up, the Tranquil mage was already stripping bed linen off the bed and piling it into a basket Orana had provided, reaching up to pull down the canopy drapes.

Fenris helped him drag the heavy brocade curtains down and piled them into a second basket as Hal took up a bucket and cloths and began scrubbing at the blood and ichor that had soaked into the carpet, unheeding of the blood that soaked through the fabric of his pants and stained his feet, smears of blood splashing his arms as he mopped, soaked and scrubbed.

His singlemindedness as he scrubbed at the carpet was disturbing in a way. Fenris worked just as hard but he couldn’t help stealing glimpses at the red-headed man, his frown increasing as they worked. It got under his skin, how placid Hal was as he worked, how he had no other goal but to clean.

After they’d managed to scrub the worst of the stains, Fenris leaned back on his heels and dropped the brush in the bucket. “Hal, you can take a break; your knees have to hurt by now.” the elf said.

The red-head straightened slowly, a slight wince of pain crossing his face as he dropped his cloth in the bucket. “I...am in some discomfort,” he stated slowly.

“Get up and find somewhere to sit. I will get us a snack.” Fenris grimaced as he forced himself up to his feet. Hal nodded and got slowly to his feet. He glanced around then made his way to a chair near the blood-spattered mirror that had somehow escaped the worst of the muck and sat down in it to await the elf’s return.

Fenris scrubbed his hands clean and got them tea, sandwiches and nabbed a bit of honeycomb Orana had left out for a treat. When he returned to the room, Hal was staring in abstract fascination at the spots of blood splattered across the mirror, one hand lifted to the glass, smearing some of the spots into a pattern that looked like a glyph of some sort. From many years spent around both Anders and Arden, not to mention his own earlier experiences in Minrathous, the elf recognised it as some form of warding glyph though not one he’d ever seen before.

“Hal...what are you doing?” Fenris asked quietly, unsure if he wanted to drop the tray and yank the Tranquil man away from the mirror. “Where did you see that pattern?”

Hal dropped his hand away from the mirror then stared at the blood on his fingers. “My reflection changed. It spoke to me and drew this pattern. It said it was a ward against further demonic incursions through the glass.” He turned and glanced up at the elf, his eyes as dull and flat as ever.

“Your reflection changed?” Fenris asked, his voice strained as he set the tray down and tried not to panic. “To what?”

Hal lifted a hand to his forehead and touched the mark seared into his skin. “The brand was gone.”

Fenris’ breath caught in his throat as he called the other man to join him. “Hal, please take the tray and go into the study. I will be along in a few minutes.”

Hal rose obediently and took the tray without a word and left the room.

Once the former mage was gone, Fenris found Arden and Anders in the kitchen talking quietly. “Arden, that other Hawke, the dead one...what did he look like?” the elf looked stricken, like he’d seen a ghost or worse, yet another Hawke.

Arden straightened with a glance to Anders. “About my height, amber eyes, slightly darker skin, waist-length dark red hair, grey robes - why?” He rose to his feet.

“I think he...he might have spoken to Hal through our mirror.” Fenris swayed on his feet, his mind was reeling and he couldn’t take any more odd things happening, not right after a demon had tried to feast on Anders in his sleep.

Arden was at his side in a heartbeat, Anders there on the other side, the tall blond apostate slinging an arm around Fenris’ waist as he helped him to a chair. He glanced up at Arden.

“This... other Hawke... sounds remarkably similar in appearance to a certain Tranquil mage,” he said slowly.

“And don’t think that had escaped my attention,” nodded Arden. “Stay here, I’ll go check on the mirror and Hal.”

“He’s in the study, I said I’d be right back but I can’t move.” Fenris said softly before he grasped Anders hand and squeezed. “Too much, it’s too much.’

Anders drew the elf to him and wrapped his arms around Fenris, lifting a hand to stroke the soft white hair as he pressed a kiss to Fenris’ temple. “I’m here, you’re safe now,” he murmured gently. “No ghosts or demons in here. Just you and I.”

Arden headed upstairs, first to the guest room which still reeked of blood even after the combined efforts of both Hal and Fenris. He would have to get Orana and Bodahn to call in a specialist cleaning team. Or maybe just gut this room and redecorate, as was happening with the main bedroom. He sighed; they’d be running out of spare rooms soon at this rate.

He crossed to the mirror and stared at it for several minutes, studying the glyph without touching it, then lifted one hand and let the merest trickle of magic flow, feeling how the glyph responded, working out from the energies precisely what it was supposed to do.

His eyes widened. The glyph was already imbued with magic, but that shouldn’t have been possible. Hal was Tranquil. Yet the glyph was charged and active. It was designed to seal the mirror against demonic incursions from the other side; it was quite an elegant and effective working. Something he would have expected from his father perhaps.

He pulled away from the mirror and went to the study where he found Hal sitting quietly on a chair, the tray with the food and mugs of tea sitting untouched on a low table before him as he waited for Fenris. Arden crossed over to the Tranquil mage and held out his hand. “Give me your hand, Hal,” he said quietly.

The red-haired man surrendered his hand to the blond mage as he glanced up at Arden. Arden stared at the drying blood smeared over Hal’s fingertips then stared into the dull amber eyes that regarded him with a complete lack of curiosity.

Arden’s eyes flicked up to the brand on Hal’s forehead, and on sudden impulse he dropped Hal’s hand, cupping his hand around the back of Hal’s head, pressing the palm of his other hand firmly against the brand as he closed his eyes and sent a surge of healing magic through the brand, feeling it out with his inner senses.

Hal cried out briefly, a hoarse scream of pain, then fell silent as the pulse of magic flared against the lyrium brand then died, but not before Arden was able to feel that Hal’s connection to the Fade was still severed by the Rite.

Arden drew away, opening his eyes and looking down at the Tranquil mage who stared up at him with an uncomprehending look upon his face, tears of pain in his eyes. Arden’s head was splitting with pain, but he could see his own discomfort was nothing compared to the agony Hal must have experienced as the Tranquil mage dropped his head to his hands with a whimper. 

“You...hurt me,” he breathed quietly.

“I’m sorry, Hal,” said Arden remorsefully even as his head throbbed. “I had to know though. That glyph was imbued with magic, and it was not by Anders or myself. I had to know.”

“I am Tranquil,” whispered Hal, threading his slender fingers into the red hair and massaging his temples as though to relieve the pain. “This hurts.” 

“I’m so sorry,” said Arden as he dropped to one knee beside Hal and laid a hand lightly on his head, sending gentle, soothing healing magic into the young man to ease the pain. “Forgive me.”

Hal lifted his head slowly, his eyes blank once more. “There is nothing to forgive. I am Tranquil. You may do with me as you wish,” he said tonelessly.

Arden closed his eyes in pain, hating himself in that moment. “That doesn’t make what I did right,” he muttered. He shook his head and pushed himself to his feet, gesturing to Hal to rise. “Bring the tray and follow me,” he said quietly, then led the way back to the kitchen. 

Fenris had curled against Anders and was silent as he heard Arden and he guessed Hal returning to the room. He felt Anders’ head lift and then his chest rumble comfortingly against the elf’s ear as he spoke.

“Are you alright, love? You look like you’re in pain.”

“My own damned fault,” replied Arden. “Well, whatever imbued that glyph, it wasn’t Hal. His brand is still intact. It’s a smart and elegant piece of work; nothing from the Fade is getting through that mirror any time soon. In fact, I’ve a mind to put it on the rest of our mirrors as well.”

Fenris glanced up at his lover. “As long as it’s not in blood, I don’t care if the blood was already on the mirror.” The elf closed his eyes and shuddered. “I need to get out of the house for a while, I can’t take anything else today.” 

Arden and Anders exchanged a glance. “Anders, why don’t you two go see how Varric’s redecorating is going?” the Champion suggested.

Hal stood silently to one side, still holding the tray.

“I don’t think you should be left alone.” Fenris said quietly. 

“It’s not me they seem to be after, love,” replied Arden. “If Anders is with you and Varric - and doubtless Isabela will be around as well - then I’m sure he’ll be safe. And he could probably stand a change of scenery as well.” He turned and took the tray from Hal’s hands then pushed the Tranquil mage down into a chair, noting his bloodstained clothing, ruined from the cleaning efforts. He mentally resolved to ask Orana to look out a suitable wardrobe for Hal as he took bread and cheese from the tray and pushed them into Hal’s hands, urging him to eat. The former mage began to mechanically chew and swallow the food.

“Maker’s oath I could,” agreed Anders, his eyes drawn as ever to the brand on the forehead of the red-head, unable to shake the deep uneasy feeling he felt whenever he was around the blank-faced man.

“Fine...I just worry. I’ll change and be right back.” Fenris peeled himself out of Anders grasp and headed towards the stairs so he could get armored and strap his sword on. Anders followed up to retrieve his jacket and staff, glad to be out of Hal’s disquieting presence.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine with you, love. I can’t think of anywhere safer than behind you with that massive sword in your hands,” he smiled as he leaned over to kiss the elf.

“I hope so.” Fenris muttered as he got out of the stained clothing and pulled on his armor, his hands nearly shaking as he finished off the last of the toggles and pulled the scabbard over his back. “Come, I need to get out of the house.”

Anders nodded and followed the elf. “I promise I won’t stir from your sight the whole time we’re at the Hanged Man,” he said. “I’ll even let you tie me to the chair if you like.” He winked at Fenris in an effort to lighten the mood.

“Not funny, not when the Imperial Chantry is after you.” Fenris said darkly.

“Well, they won’t get far with you around,” said Anders. “Though why on earth they’d be after me I have no idea.” He frowned as he studied the toes of his boots, walking beside the elf. “I wouldn’t have thought they’d ever even heard of me. What do I have that they’d....” His voice tailed off and his footsteps stumbled to a halt. “Justice. Somehow they’ve heard of Justice.”

“What? What do you mean?” Fenris asked as he turned around to face the other man. “How would they even have heard of your...spirit?”

“I don’t know,” said Anders, a faint panicky note creeping into his voice. “But why else would they be after me? There’s nothing special about me, I’m just a healer, why on earth would they care about me if not for Justice?”

“Hopefully Varric can find out something, or perhaps ...Isabela.” the elf said as he resumed walking towards the Hanged Man.

Anders walked closer to the elf, his eyes now darting all around as though he expected an attack from the shadows at any step.

Fenris stuck close to him as they made their way into the pub and looked around for Varric since his rooms were likely in no better shape than theirs. The dwarf was holding court in a large room off the main common room of the pub.

The elf waved at Varric and slid into a seat opposite the rogue, his expression tired and weary. Anders dropped into the seat next to Fenris’, his eyes darting around the room nervously.

Varric raised an eyebrow then dismissed the group of dwarven merchants he’d been entertaining, waving them off with a smile and a nod before gesturing at one of Corff’s serving girls.

“You look like you just went ten rounds with the Archdemon, Broody - and you look like you expect it to come back for seconds, Blondie. Care to tell Uncle Varric about it?”

“It is nothing I wish to discuss in the common room Varric, is there anywhere private we can talk?” Fenris said, his manner subdued and quiet.

Varric frowned slightly. “I’ve taken a spare suite of rooms upstairs at the back next to Isabela for the time being. Not as spacious as my old rooms, but they’re private.” He jerked his head toward the stairs as he turned and picked up Bianca. “Come on up.”

They followed the dwarf upstairs and along a long corridor that led towards the rear of the Hanged Man. He unlocked a door and gestured for them to enter.

The room was smaller than Varric’s old main room, dominated by a large table. A couple of bottles of wine stood near the centre of the table. Varric carefully set Bianca on a stand in the corner before gesturing for Fenris and Anders to help themselves.

“Hawke in trouble, or is this something more personal?” asked Varric.

“More like Anders is in trouble...someone, or several someone’s are after him. Remember the Imperial Chantry?” Fenris said as he let his hand rest on Anders thigh possessively. He could feel Anders trembling slightly as the mage stared at the table top, biting his thumb distractedly.

“How could I forget, Broody? Corff still hasn’t finished cleaning up the mess they left in my old rooms. What does Tevinter want with Blondie?”

“We don’t know, at least there’s nothing I can think of right now.” Fenris said tiredly. “Intelligence on me might have led them to him for all I know.” 

Anders darted him a worried glance, still chewing on his thumb but saying nothing.

Varric leaned back and sighed. “I’ll pass word among my contacts, see what I can ferret out for you, Fenris.” He glanced at Anders. “Chill, Blondie, we’ll find out who’s after your pretty apostate hide, never fear.”

“Then I’ll rip them to pieces.” Fenris snarled, his grip tightening on his lover without realizing it. Anders blanched.

“Love... your gauntlets-” he gasped.

“Sorry!” Fenris gently pried his hand free and glanced at his lover. “I’m sorry, are you hurt?” 

Anders pressed his hand hard against the slight tears in his trousers as blood began to seep through the fabric. He kept his head down as he channelled a little healing magic into the five wounds the steel-tipped gauntlets had carved inadvertently into his flesh. “You’re sharp,” he said quietly. “There are certain places I’d rather you didn’t pierce.” He glanced up as the bleeding eased, hesitantly smiling to reassure the elf.

The elf looked down, angry with himself. “Forgive me, I didn't mean to hurt you Anders.” 

Anders laid his hand over Fenris’ gauntleted hand. “I know you didn’t, love,” he said softly. “You would never hurt me deliberately, I know that.”

“Still…” Fenris took off his gauntlets before he let his hand rest on Anders thigh again, his gaze a bit soft. “So what now? A bit of cards so we can relax? I would not mind something else to think about for a while.” 

“Sure thing, Broody,” agreed Varric. “You want I should call Rivaini in to join us?”

“Sure, I could use a laugh. Provided she stops trying to guess the colour of my underthings as a bet.” Fenris rubbed lazy circles with his thumb over his lovers thigh as they waited for Varric to return with a pirate queen in tow. Anders slowly relaxed under his touch, sliding down a little in his chair as he dropped his head back to rest on the back of his chair.

“I am heartily tired of being hunted,” he said quietly. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Fenris said as he leaned forward and rested his forehead on his arm. “I have no desire to deal with demons, the Imperial Chantry or other hunters that would target you but I will kill anyone who dares try.”

“Do you think the demon was sent by the Imperial Chantry as well?” mused Anders, staring up at the ceiling.

“No idea, and I’m not looking forward to finding out. Can we just talk of other things for now? After the less than ideal start to the morning, I tire of all this talk of demons, hunters, and just want an afternoon of idle companionship.” Fenris took the wine Varric handed him with thanks before he greeted Isabela.

Isabela took in the expression on Fenris’ face and the way Anders was slumped in his chair, and promptly pulled the wineglass from Fenris’ hand, grabbing a second glass and sloshing a good three or four fingers of a dark amber liquid from a bottle in her hand into it then thrusting it into Fenris’ hand. “I think you’ll find that hits the spot better than anything in a wine bottle, sweet thing,” she said as she reached for another glass, pouring a couple of fingers of the liquor in before thrusting it at Anders.

“What?” he blinked as he sat up. “But- I don’t -”

“Don’t argue, Anders, until you’ve got that inside you. Not another word.” Isabela glared at him. He blinked then looked to Fenris.

Fenris put his hand over his lover’s glass. “No, we do not need to get drunk before the fifth evening bell Isabela. I am content with wine and he does not drink, you know that. Do not make me regret asking for you to join us.”

“Maybe he needs to start,” suggested Isabela as she slid into a seat. “If ever a man looks like he needed a drink right now it’s Anders.”

Anders glanced down at the glass in his hand then at Fenris again. “Do I really look that bad?” he asked quietly.

“You really are pushing my already thin patience Isabela. This is not the time to make me angry, not after how my day started.” Fenris took his wine back and sat down, his gaze hard as he looked at her, almost eager to argue with the Rivaini pirate.

Isabela arched an eyebrow as she sat back. She glanced at Varric, who shook his head minutely before turning his attention to the cards.

Anders leaned on the table and dropped his gaze to the wooden surface as he put the wine glass down.

Fenris sighed and nudged his wine over to the blond. “Here, it won’t get you as knackered as the brandy might.”

Anders glanced at the glass, then at the elf before hesitantly accepting the glass and taking a sip. He savoured the taste before he swallowed. “Not quite as nice as those bottles we shared that night, but... thank you.”

“If the Hanged Man starts serving Pavali, I won’t be able to afford it.” Fenris muttered as he looked over his hand and pulled the glass away for a sip before he gave it back to Anders. “You’re welcome.”

Anders took another sip before looking at his hand. Fenris could tell from the way his face briefly twitched that the mage’s hand was a poor one. Anders took another hasty mouthful of wine as he prepared to lose yet again.

“You need to learn to bluff beloved.” Fenris muttered as he played his hand. There were groans all around the table as the others chucked their hands down, the most heartfelt from Anders.

“Maybe I should just give you all the coin I have on me right now and save myself the humiliation,” sighed Anders.

“Oh, now where would be the fun in that?” laughed Isabela.

Fenris growled but said nothing else as he played with the others. 

They played on, all Anders’ coin eventually going to both Fenris and Isabela before he dropped out to watch the others playing, slowly sipping the red wine and content to be distracted as the day wore on.

**

Another Kirkwall, another Anders who stared at nothing, wishing for all the world that there were something to distract him from what had taken place earlier.

He had no idea how long he had stood there; the tears had dried, and the house was silent. The kitten had come to seek him out a little while after Fenris had left the house, and he had cradled her to his chest as he stared unseeing out the window, her quiet purr a small comfort to him. A growing sense of unease finally propelled him away from the window.

It was a mess. But he couldn’t just walk away from it, no matter how sensible an option that would have seemed. The healer in him could not stand by and watch the two men rip each other apart like this. He went in search of Fenris, gently setting the kitten down on the bed where she curled up and watched him with unblinking green eyes as he stroked her absently then left the room.

Fenris had just come in when he saw Anders on the stair, his expression carefully neutral as he entered the foyer. “You have remained here?”

Anders slowly descended the stairs and nodded as he reached the bottom. “Perhaps it would have been more prudent to leave,” he said quietly. “But I can’t.” He slowly closed the distance between himself and the elf. “Because there was, for a short time, something to keep me here.” He stared into the emerald green eyes. “And I think perhaps somewhere amidst all the pain... there still is. Or were all your words last night only a ploy to get me into bed? Was it for nothing I gave myself to you? Allowed Invictus to fuck my mouth afterwards? Was I just a plaything to you both? .... because I don’t think I was.”

Fury flashed in the elf’s eyes. “You dare say that to me? After...after I opened myself to you, you honestly think I would toy with you like that? You ...saw me crying, I told you of what I’d been through and you dare say that to me?” 

Anders caught the elf’s wrist with his hand and pressed the warrior’s palm over his own heart.

“Because I opened myself to you. You saw my tears. You know what I’ve been through. Tell me, Fenris; were you in my place, what would you think? What would you feel?” He blinked tears away. “If I gave myself in vain then take my heart now, because I have no further use for it.”

“Stop this...just stop. We both have been wronged, me more so by Invictus but do not ask that of me. My own heart is breaking right now and I am in a lot of...pain, not physical but I have no other words for it. I ...need to talk to Vic, and I wish you present. Perhaps I will not lose myself to despair, I just hope he hasn’t done anything rash.”

Anders nodded, his hand falling away from Fenris’ wrist as he bowed his head. “I was afraid you would send me away,” he said quietly.

“Not now...not after what happened when I was out. I need a comforting presence and above all else you are a healer Anders.” Fenris closed his eyes, anguish on his face as he tried to keep calm, not give in to the feeling that had his chest tight with doubt and worry.

“What happened?” asked Anders, lifting a hand to gently cradle the elf’s cheek in his warm palm, half-afraid that the warrior would pull away.

“I...went to speak with Sebastian, not about you...just he is sometimes my sounding board when I cannot speak with Vic.” Fenris’ breath hitched and he rested his head against Anders chest, his voice slightly muffled as he continued.

“I told him of my problem in a way that I’d thought excluded you so he would have no reason to bother you but he figured out what had happened. He, Maker...he tried to, he tried to convince me I would be better off without mages in my life or my bed. That the Maker’s will was to keep me away from those that would enslave me again. He even...his farewell was too handsy and I hit him before I left.” Fenris finished slowly.

Anders wrapped his arms around the elf and stood silently, holding Fenris close yet lightly. “It never occurred to him that Invictus and I are the least likely slavers ever,” he said quietly. “I have entrusted you with my heart; I doubt any magister would ever do that, or willingly place themselves at your mercy - not once, but repeatedly.” He laughed quietly. “And then he - oh Maker, Sebastian, you should look to your own reflection before giving advice!”

“I do not wish to speak further of him. Do you know where Invictus is?” Fenris said as he pulled back from the blond’s embrace.

Anders wiped the lingering moisture from his eyelashes with the cuff of his sleeve as he glanced up the stairs. “I’m not sure; I didn’t hear anyone leave the house after you. I’d guess the study maybe?”

“If not there, then perhaps...his mother’s room. He sometimes goes there when he wants to be alone.” Fenris sighed and tugged at the top toggles on his vest, they felt stifling as he made his way up the stairs, and tried the study door only to find it locked. “Invictus?” he called. Anders followed behind but hung back as Fenris called to the other mage.

“Vic, the study is never locked. Let me in, please.” Fenris said as he rested his palm against the door. 

“You could phase your hand through...” said Anders softly. “But let me-” The mage laid a hand against the door and closed his eyes, feeling for any trace of magic or demonic traces. He had no idea if Invictus’ own despair might draw more demons to them whilst they were all so raw - or, more prosaically, whether Invictus may have laid a glyph of some sort to bar their entry.

“Is it clear to ---” Fenris turned when the door opened to let them into the darkened study, only a stub of a candle going as Invictus sat before the fire, bottle of drink in hand, robe pulled tight around him and his expression raw as either of them had ever seen outside of losing Leandra. “Welcome home.”

Anders had stumbled as the door opened, catching himself with a hand on the frame of the door as his eyes opened. The smell of alcohol hit him as he inhaled sharply, and he darted a glance at Fenris.

“Invictus, come out of here please it’s dark and you have been drinking. It’ll be hard to talk if you’re besotted already.” Fenris said quietly as he let his brands light, and his eyes were drawn to the corner by his lover, something was there and it made his skin crawl. “We’re not alone.” he whispered to Anders.

Anders’ eyes widened. “I see it,” he breathed. “That’s... what was feeding on me... I recognise the feel of it,” he added, dropping his gaze to the garland of yellow bruises that still bloomed around his left wrist. “We need to take it down fast.”

“Where’s your staff, his staff, anything?” Fenris asked as he pulled his sword free. “Vic, love I need you to move out of the chair.” 

“No, there’s no point. Just run me over, it doesn’t matter Fenris. Take Anders and start over, he’s better for you.” The despondence in Vic’s words made Fenris shudder. 

Anders blinked. “There’s no time to get my staff.” He glanced at Fenris. “Get ready.” He closed his eyes briefly as he pressed a hand to his forehead and unleashed a spirit blast; the thing in the corner recoiled with a sibilant hiss and then he was moving, straight towards Invictus. He reached for the other mage and bodily hauled him out of the chair, using his momentum to swing the heavier man up and then thrust him staggering away towards the door even as the demon reared up with a sibilant hiss of thrashing tentacles and lashed out toward the unarmed man.

“Now!” cried Anders and then screamed as a tentacle slashed across his back, sending him to his knees. The pain was bright fire down his back, and he could feel blood running hot and wet across his skin.

Fenris ghosted over to where the creature was hiding and cleaved it nearly in two in his rage. “You can’t have him… you can’t…” he screamed as he hacked it to bits.

Anders rolled over onto his back with a grimace of pain and hurled a spirit blast at the demon, following it up with a lightning bolt, panting through the pain as he felt the rug beneath his back grow unpleasantly damp with his blood. “Finish it!” he rasped.

The elf glowed with dark spirit energy as he finished chopping it to pieces with screams of rage and hate before he backed away, covered in ichor and demonic blood. “Fuck this bullshit, I’m going to get drunk now.” he muttered as he looked at himself in disgust. “I hate demons!” he yelled at no one in particular.

Anders let his head drop back onto the carpet and raised a hand that trembled slightly. “Seconded,” he said hoarsely.

“Invictus?” Fenris called out when he didn’t see where his lover was.

“Thirded.” was all that came from behind his desk. “I didn’t think you could move me around like that.” he muttered wearily.

“Never underestimate the power of sheer raw terror,” remarked Anders in a voice that was almost too calm. “Also long arms.”

“Noted. What happened?” Invictus said as he dragged himself up and plopped into the chair with a tired sigh.

Anders let his hand drop, staying where he was on the bloodsoaked carpet. “We all forgot there was still a despair demon lurking around here. I guess it thought you were tasty.”

“Well he probably got a nice, final meal out of me then.” Vic helped Anders up, the blond mage gasping in pain as he staggered over to lean on the desk, then went over to Fenris, unsure if he should touch the elf or if he was still angry. “May I help you?” he said carefully.

Anders braced himself on the desk; his back felt like it was on fire, and his shirt hung in shreds. He didn’t like to think what kind of mess his back was in. He glanced over towards Fenris and Invictus.

“Help Anders, he’s in worse shape. We can talk as planned once I’ve bathed and found something to wear.” Fenris said just as carefully, his hands at his sides and his gaze averted.

“Understood.” Vic said as he looped an arm under the other mage’s shoulder. “Come on, I’ll get the bath started then if you’ll let me I’ll heal you or if it’s not too bad, you can heal yourself.” 

“Should clean it first,” said Anders, gritting his teeth as each movement made the pain in his back flare. “No telling what unpleasantness might have gotten into the wound. Maker, it feels like that last whipping I got back at Kinloch....”

That made Vic stumble, causing Anders to cry out briefly as the movement caused the pain in his back to flare angrily. “What?” exclaimed the dark mage.

“There was a templar there - real bastard. Liked to pour magebane on after he’d given you a lashing,” said Anders through gritted teeth, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. He could feel sweat beading his brow.

“Fuck...I’m sorry.” Vic mumbled as he walked Anders to the bath, settled him on a stool and began filling the tub before he came over and picked the other mage’s shirt off; his breath puffed out in a low hiss. “Maker…”

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” said Anders quietly, holding himself still. “How bad?”

“If you can’t heal it, might need stitches.” He looked to Fenris and nodded to Anders back, “Or your abilities in case anything is deep in these cuts.”

Anders closed his eyes. “It needs to be cleaned,” he said quietly. “I can feel it burning.”

“This is more your specialty Fenris, I am not...gentle.” Vic said.

“You can start, I’m filthy and covered in demonic blood which should not get into his injuries. You can be gentle, the kit is downstairs if you could get it, please.” Fenris said softly as he sunk into the tub with a groan. 

Anders slumped over as far as the burning pain down his back would allow and concentrated on his breathing. He was beginning to feel dizzy and nauseous from blood loss and whatever was in the wound. He closed his eyes.

Vic busied himself with carefully cleaning the other mages wounds, he was as gentle as could be but he still felt the way Anders jumped under his touch. “Sorry.”

Anders tried to control his flinching, but he couldn’t hold back the small whimpers and occasional hoarse scream as Invictus carefully cleaned his back. He was white-faced and panting by the time the other mage had finished, his body shivering uncontrollably. 

Vic helped him sit against the tub as he went to get the medical kit and return. By the time he was back, Fenris had finished his bath and was rinsing the tub so Anders could have a turn. 

“Do you need help?” the elf asked quietly.

Anders drew a ragged breath, then pressed a hand against the small of his back and began to channel healing magic into himself. He was silent as he worked; as Fenris watched, he could see severed muscle and tendons draw themselves back together, flesh weaving itself anew then skin drawing closed over the long wound that had wound from left shoulder down to right hip. The elf was fascinated in spite of himself as the fresh new skin thickened, shiny and taut and pink.

The mage slumped as the healing finished, then slowly nodded. “Might pass out in the tub,” he said quietly.

“We’ll help you.” Fenris said as he pulled his robe off and looked to Vic to join them. 

Invictus stripped and helped Anders into the tub, taking care to get him upright between himself and Fenris. He started with his chest and helped Anders wash quickly so they could all get out of the tub sooner than later. As it was, Anders’ eyes started to roll back in his head and he went limp as they began to help him out of the tub. He groaned as they managed to lift him out of the water then began to dry him, slowly coming back to himself.

“Sorry,” he murmured as his eyes flickered open again.

“It’s alright.” Vic said as he helped Anders up and to their room. Despite the tension, he didn’t want to let the other mage rest alone and perhaps it would give him more time to head off the talk he was dreading.

Anders revived a little once he was laid upon the bed, glancing over toward Fenris.

“Sleep, we will speak later.” he said as he looked significantly at Invictus. “I will instruct Bodahn to have workers come tomorrow to clean the study and we should ...invite Merrill back to inspect the site of the incident.” he said with a definite moue of displeasure.

Anders nodded and lay back against the pillows. He exhaled on a small sigh and closed his eyes, wearied by pain and the strain of healing. He reached out with a hand blindly for Invictus to reassure himself the other mage was still there.

“I haven’t left.” Vic said quietly from where he lay next to Fenris, though he held himself back without realizing it. Anders rolled his head on the pillow toward the sound of Invictus’ voice and then he opened his eyes slowly, his hand still reaching out toward him. He glanced up at Invictus, silent.

“Take his hand, I am going to have something to eat and then perhaps we can talk this evening.” Fenris said quietly. He was hurting and Invictus’ caution was grating on him.

Anders rolled over on his side until the tips of his fingers brushed Invictus’ hand, and then his head slumped as his eyes closed, the mage drifting into unconsciousness. The kitten crept out from behind the curtain and leapt up on the bed, circling around her unconscious master and touching her tiny nose to his before curling up under his chin, regarding Invictus balefully with unblinking green eyes.

Vic frowned and rose to follow Fenris, he hated the rift and didn’t want it to grow. “Can I come with you?” he asked.

The elf paused, not looking back at Invictus. He glanced at the sleeping Anders, then turned away. “If you wish,” he said neutrally.

Vic nodded and followed Fenris down to the kitchen; he watched as Fenris made up a plate with cheese, bread and sliced cold cuts, enough for both of them. He waited until the elf sat before he spoke.

“I...I’m sorry.”

Fenris drew a long, silent breath. “Are you.” It was more a statement than a question, the elf’s voice flat as he held his anger in check with an effort of will.

Invictus blinked as he forced himself to look at Fenris. “Yes, please...please Fenris. I’m sorry, I...forgive me, please.” 

Fenris’ gaze dropped to his hands which had curled into fists; with an effort, he forced them to relax. “How long would you have continued to deceive me if Anders had not told me?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know...I didn’t...I, fuck I’m making a mess of this. An even bigger one. I thought I was making it ok, if you didn’t …” Vic trailed off as he realized how much worse it sounded out loud than in his head.

Fenris lifted his head and slowly turned to stare at Invictus. “When Anders told me, I didn’t want to believe him. I told him that if he was lying to me, I would make his death slow and painful. He was clearly terrified of me - a man that a few hours previously had given himself to me, asking only that I be gentle with him.”

The mage looked down finally, his hands trembled and his voice hitched. “I told him I wouldn’t have denied it, I wouldn’t have let you kill him. I didn’t think he’d run and tell you, or even that ...I just let it slip, I thought he’d understand.” Vic whispered brokenly.

“When I saw his face, I knew something was wrong. Tell me, Vic; you have seen me when I wish to know the truth of a matter. Could you withstand me if I demanded the truth of you?” Fenris arched an eyebrow. “Despite what has passed between us all he is still afraid of me on some level. I fear perhaps he always will be. Do not blame him for confessing to me what should have come from your own lips.”

“I’m not blaming him, I just really… Fenris. Please I’m sorry, I’ll do anything to make this up to you if you’ll let me. Please don’t leave me.” Invictus broke as he sat there, sure the elf was going to leave them both after his deceit.

“I am still here,” pointed out the elf. “I will admit I had considered it. But there is also Anders to consider.” He glanced up towards the ceiling in the direction of the bedroom. “We have placed him unwittingly into the midst of our turmoil, and I am... remorseful that he has once again become hurt due to our actions. This time it was to save you from the repercussions of your own folly. Last time it was to save me.” He dropped his gaze to Invictus. “For his sake, and for the years between us, I had to remain. The question then is, what do I remain for, Invictus?”

“Our love, I need you. I am happy with you and it’s fucking selfish but I’d like to think I’ve made you happy Fenris. That you care for me as I do you. Part of me died when you nearly crossed the Veil. I beg of you, please, please stay. I’ll do better, I’ll do whatever needs to happen. Please don’t go.” Vic’s eyes were red and his face was wet with remorse as he glanced up at the elf, his gaze sad and pathetic.

“You may never call me ‘domne’ again.” Fenris’ voice was flat as he spoke.

“But…” Vic said quietly. Fenris raised his hand.

“Never. You will not use me to flagellate yourself as you have done. I will not be your master, Invictus.”

The mage nodded silently, his head bowed as he sat there while he fought the urge to flee. “As you wish Fenris.” he said brokenly.

Fenris closed his eyes and sighed wearily. “One day perhaps you will understand this is for your own good, Invictus. This is not some punishment for being found out. But I cannot continue in this role of master and pet now I truly understand how you have used me.” He dropped his head to his hand and drew a slow breath. “I still... care for you, Invictus. Even in my anger, I never stopped. But you have hurt me deeply and I cannot forget that so easily. It will take time.”

“Then you are leaving for a while?” Vic said in resignation. 

“No,” said Fenris softly. “I will not run from this Invictus.”

“But you ...do you wish me to take the guest room until you wish to be with me again? I cannot bear the idea of sleeping next to you while not ...while we are at odds with each other.” Vic sounded tired, wrung out and ready to just give up as he sat there in the face of the elf’s quiet fury.

Fenris lifted his head sharply. “And what of Anders? Will he ferry himself between our beds then? A night here, a night there?” he snapped. “What are you thinking, Invictus?”

“That I have broken your trust and his and until it’s earned back I cannot abide sleeping next to either of you knowing what I have done. You two can take the master bedroom, I’ll take the guest room, until things are better between us.” Vic didn’t have the energy to snap at his lover, if he could call Fenris that any longer.

“And how will you earn our trust if you hold us apart?” asked Fenris. “Invictus, Anders reached out to you just now. He wanted your touch.”

“I don’t deserve it, not after my actions.” Vic said, his voice had an edge to it, he was frayed badly and nearly at his limit. “If he even wants to remain here after what I’ve done.” he added quietly.

“And what has he done to deserve your distance?” asked Fenris softly. “He wishes to stay. By holding yourself apart you will only harm him further.” He blinked, feeling a hot stinging feeling rising in his eyes. “You will only hurt _me_ more, love.” He felt a single tear slip free as he stared hopelessly at the mage, wondering how he could ever get through to him past the wall of self-hatred Invictus had built around himself.

“Then I will remain with you.” Invictus conceded before he picked at some cheese and meat. His head had started to hurt and he just wanted everything to go back as it was, not the way it was headed.

“Thank you,” whispered Fenris.

“You’re welcome. If you don’t mind, I need to get some rest.” Vic said sullenly, hit with a desire to be alone but he knew that would drive even more of a wedge between all three of them.

“Vic,” whispered Fenris, unable to stop the tears that were now rolling down his cheeks.

The mage looked up and went over to his lover to wipe his tears away. “Don’t cry, not over me.” he said softly. “I’m sorry, more sorry than I have words for.”

“Please hold me, beloved,” whispered Fenris.

Vic complied and pulled Fenris to him, his embrace strong as he let his emotions run loose, his own tears mingling with those of his elven lover’s. Fenris clung to him like one drowning, his breaths sobs as he buried his face against Invictus’ shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry for all of it.” Vic breathed slowly as he clung to Fenris in response. “Don’t cry, I hate seeing you cry. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” gasped Fenris as he fought to bring his breathing back under control and calm his sobbing. His weeping gradually eased and he scrubbed at his dripping nose with the back of his hand as he drew a deep, ragged breath.

“No, you have no need to apologize. The fault is mine.” Vic said hoarsely as he pulled back. “Let’s go lie down?”

Fenris nodded jerkily, sniffing as his breathing hitched. He allowed Invictus to pull him to his feet and tug him towards the stairs, their food forgotten. 

Vic crawled into the middle and pulled Fenris in after him, then arranged himself so all three men were touching in some way before he fell into a hard, uneasy sleep. Fenris followed him down into sleep, his breath still hitching in slight hiccups even in rest for some time after.

**

“Looks like Blondie’s flaked out on us,” observed Varric, nodding over at the apostate who was fast asleep, head resting on the back of his chair.

“It doesn’t take much to put him out.” Fenris slurred as he nudged his own glass away. 

Isabela glanced from the unconscious Anders to Fenris. “Maybe you two should stay here for the night?” she suggested. “You’ll have a hard time getting him back to Hawke’s in that state.”

“Rivaini’s right, Broody,” agreed Varric. “I don’t think you’re in much better state than he is. Let me get a room for you two and you can both sleep it off, what do you say?”

“No need,” demurred Fenris as he rose to his feet, reaching for his sword and slinging it on his back. “Arden will be wondering what has happened to us.” He bent and nudged the mage.

Anders’ snoring broke off with a grunt and he opened his eyes blearily. “Huh?” he murmured as he lifted his head and then winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maker, how long was I sleeping?” he muttered.

“A few hours,” remarked Varric. “Broody, I really don’t think this is a good idea-”

“Come on Anders, get up,” growled Fenris impatiently. “We need to get going. We have tarried too long as it is.”

“My mouth feels like something died in it,” groaned Anders as he got to his feet, none too steady.

“At least let us walk with you as far as the estate,” suggested Varric as he rose and reached for Bianca. Isabela nodded, checking her knives in their sheaths.

“If you must,” groused Fenris. He knew he’d drunk too much, but awareness was making him short-tempered. The sun was setting and Arden would be growing worried. He needed to get Anders back to the safety of the estate.

“Come on, Anders, let’s get you moving,” suggested Isabela brightly as she ducked under his arm and slung it over her shoulder, slipping a steadying arm around his waist. He nodded unsteadily. She led him carefully out of the room, Fenris behind, Varric bringing up the rear with Anders’ staff.

They headed toward the nearest flight of steps up to Hightown, Anders staggering and none too steady on his feet thanks to the skinful of wine he’d had over the course of the afternoon. Fenris silently cursed himself when he saw how inebriated Anders was, after his earlier words to Isabela. He could only blame himself; he had put the glass into the mage’s hand himself.

“Heads up!” Varric’s voice rang out from behind Fenris. “Looks like we have company.”

The elf glanced round and snarled as figures emerged from the shadows all around them. Isabela pushed Anders behind her as she drew her blades; the mage stumbled then fell heavily to the ground, sitting up slowly with a groan.

“Yield up the mage and you will not be harmed,” said a voice in heavily-accented Trade. “We only want him.”

“Bianca’s not too fond of giving up her friends,” replied Varric as Isabela abruptly vanished to reappear behind one of the figures, plunging both blades into its back. Varric took aim and fired even as Fenris shook his head to clear the wine fog before his brands lit up in a blaze of light. 

As he slipped halfway into the Fade, a lyrium ghost of death and vengeance, his head cleared completely. He leapt toward the man who had spoken, who had betrayed himself as an Imperial agent by his accent.

“Imperial dog, you will never have him!” he snarled as his blade dealt death, whirling to face another enemy before the body of the first had even hit the ground. He was dimly aware of Bianca singing as Varric picked off Imperial agents, a high-pitched scream as Isabela gelded another man. He had eyes only for the foes before him as he danced from one to another, men falling before his blade like so much chaff.

He felt a pull at his brands; the flare of magic. But even as he leapt toward the mage crouched over Anders, there was a brilliant flash of light and both magister and Anders were gone.

Fenris howled in fury and despair. Anders had been taken.

He had failed.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Fenris try to get through Vic's wall of self-loathing; in Arden's world Anders has fallen into the hands of the Imperial Chantry. Can Fenris and Arden get to him in time before they can follow through on their nefarious plans? And what is going on with Hal?

Varric and Isabela exchanged glances as the elf screamed in rage, his brands blazing with incandescent blue-white light.

“Not good,” muttered Isabela. 

“Understatement of the year, Rivaini,” replied Varric as he slung Bianca on his back, approaching the elf warily, hands raised.

Fenris glared at Varric, his chest heaved and he was a moment away from going on a destructive spree that would have put the Qunari uprising to shame. “What?” he hissed as he looked around for any kind of clue as to where they could have taken Anders.

“Easy, Fenris,” said Varric quietly, his hands still raised as he regarded the elf much as one might eye a wild mabari. 

“This one’s still alive,” called Isabela as she toed one of the bodies on the ground.

“Not for long.” the elf snapped as he turned to see where Isabela was.

“Woah, woah, wait!” exclaimed the dwarf as he stepped between the elf and the man as Isabela rolled him over. The Imperial Agent had his hands clutched over his bloody groin, whimpering in a faint, high-pitched keen that set Fenris’ teeth on edge.

“Fenris, he might know where they’ve taken Blondie. Stop, please. Think,” pleaded the dwarf, backing away as the elf advanced.

“He gets two minutes then I make him glad he’s going to die.” Fenris growled as he let Varric back up and join Isabela. “Starting now.”

The man’s face was grey and waxy, eyes wide with shock. Isabela frowned as she stared down at him. “Why, he’s barely more than a boy,” she said quietly.

“Please...” begged the young man as his body trembled, tears of pain rolling down his face. “Please don’t kill me... I don’t want to die....”

“Best answer his questions then, boy,” said Varric as he crouched down next to the youth. “Where did they take the mage?”

“N-not far,” stammered the young man, his eyes staring up at the elf who was the most terrifying thing he’d ever seen. “Th-the spell... the magister said it only w-works over short dis-distances....” he broke off with a whimper. “It hurts, it hurts so bad,” he wept.

“How far is not far, your time is running short boy.” Fenris snarled in Tevene, uncaring that the others couldn’t understand. 

“Th-the docks, a ship - the _Archon’s Flame_ ,” the boy whimpered. “Please, please don’t kill me, I had no choice, I never-” he tried to curl in upon himself, sobbing in agony. “Mother it hurts, it hurts so bad!”

“I’ll make it stop.” Fenris smiled at the boy as he let his fist go bright once more. 

“Please... please....” begged the boy. Isabela glanced up at Fenris, her eyes unreadable as Varric’s hand tightened comfortingly on the boy’s shoulder.

“Get to the docks, look for the Archon’s Flame, if they haven’t left yet I will tear that ship apart plank by plank.” Fenris said coldly as he thrust his hand into the boy’s chest and yanked viciously. “There it doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?” he snarled as he stood.

The boy’s eyes went wide with shock as a faint gurgling sound escaped his lips, and then his gaze glazed over in death as he slumped to the ground. Varric shook his head and sighed as he reached over and closed the boy’s eyes before standing.

“Maker, Broody, what kind of people are this Imperial Chantry that they’d send boys barely old enough to grow whiskers on their chin to do a man’s work?” he muttered, shaking his head. Isabela had her back to them both, wiping blood off her knife with an air of unconcern. 

“If she’s left the harbour then I’ll steal us a ship and we’ll chase her down,” the Rivaini captain said, her voice calm and precise. “There’s not a ship in Thedas will escape us.” She turned and gave Fenris a savage grin, her eyes unnaturally bright and hard.

“The same kind that would do this to me, that’s who.” Fenris sheathed his weapon and glanced towards the docks. “Send a runner so Arden can meet us, I’ll go ahead if I need to but they will not escape me.” 

Varric nodded and whistled loudly to a young urchin who was skulking around the corner of the street, her eyes wide. He beckoned her over, wide-eyed at all the blood and bodies, and thrust a gold coin into her hand. “The Hawke estate. Tell him Blondie’s been taken on the _Archon’s Flame_ and Broody needs him.”

Still wide-eyed, the urchin nodded and fled.

“Come on,” said Isabela, sheathing her knives.

Fenris didn’t turn or acknowledge them, he just took off at a dead run towards the docks as he prayed for the safe return of his lover.

**

Arden glanced up at the pounding at the door followed by the sounds of voices in the foyer. It sounded like Bodahn was arguing with someone - someone with a high-pitched, childish voice who was insisting hotly that they had a message for Serah Hawke and _must_ see him right now. He cast a glance at Hal who was also rising, dusting down the sleeve of the grey robe Arden had given him as he glanced toward the door.

Arden caught up his staff and jerked his head, indicating Hal should follow as he made his way swiftly to the foyer.

“My apologies, Master Hawke, I told her you wasn’t to be disturbed-” said Bodahn apologetically, but the urchin pushed past the dwarf and clutched at the sleeve of Arden’s robe. 

“Blondie’s on the _Archon’s Flame_ and Broody needs you!” she said urgently, tugging on his sleeve.

“Varric sent you?” exclaimed Arden. She nodded. “Maybe ten, twelve minutes ago? I run fast as I could messere. They’ve gone to the docks.”

“Lead us,” said Arden. “Hal, with me.”

The Tranquil mage nodded, and Bodahn was left gaping in astonishment as the two men sped off in hot pursuit of the street urchin, the red-haired man as fleet of foot as the Champion. 

Bodahn shook his head and closed the door slowly behind them.

**

Isabela put her hands on her hips. “Well, she’s small, but she’s fast,” she said, eyeing the vessel riding at anchor. She glanced to the elf who was pacing the dock like a caged animal. His fury had become terrifying to behold when they had reached the docks and found the _Archon’s Flame_ already slipped from her berth and standing out to sea.

“How much longer do we need to wait, the longer we tarry here the farther they escape from our grasp.” He said as he eyed the bobbing ship. He hated ships, he hated fish, the smell of the open water and the sickening lurch of his insides with each moment they weren’t on land. 

“Easy, Broody,” said Varric soothingly. “Soon as Hawke’s here, we’ll be on our way.” He eyed the two-masted brig then glanced at Isabela. “You sure we can crew that thing with just the few of us?”

“Trust me, I could steal this beauty with my eyes shut and crew her with just two of us. With four-”

“Five,” finished Arden as he staggered to a halt on the dockside, bending over with his hands braced on his thighs to catch his breath, panting hard as Hal drew level with him, also gasping for breath.

“You brought the Tranquil mage? Five then,” nodded Isabela. “We’ll get her under way in no time. Arden, a few handy sleep spells whilst Varric and I clear the decks and then Hal, Fenris, you come on board.”

Varric nodded as he tossed another coin to the street urchin, who darted off into the shadows, and then he unslung Bianca as he and Arden headed up the gangplank up onto the ship behind Isabela.

There was silence for a few minutes then muffled grunting, thuds, a muffled cry and the unmistakable pull of magic on Fenris’ brands as Arden cast spells. Shortly afterwards the three reappeared on deck, dragging still bodies after them.

“I swear some of your traits must be rubbing off on me Arden; there was a time I would have just slit their throats and tossed them in the harbour,” muttered Isabela as they dragged the few unconscious crewmates down onto the dockside. 

“All aboard that’s coming aboard!” called Varric.

Fenris muttered curses under his breath as he boarded and kept aside as they readied the ship to sail off. He was fine for the first thirty minutes or so, pacing and snapping at anyone who got close to him, but soon the motion of the ship and the tang of salt in the air got to him and he was leaned over a railing as he sicked up.

Isabela soon had Arden and Hal stripped out of their robes and in shirt sleeves, following her orders as she got the small trim vessel under way as silently as possible. Hal in particular was the perfect crewmate, diligent and singleminded in his attention to his work. Isabela only had to show him once how to do something and then she was able to leave him to it.

As the ship edged out between the tall cliffs, the false dawn glimmered in the far east. Isabela stood at the wheel, steering her carefully past the immense bronze statues of slaves that stared down at the narrow strait leading to the open sea. Arden made his way to the rail where Fenris leaned over.

“Can I help at all?” he asked gently, rubbing small circles over the small of the elf’s back.

Fenris slumped down to the deck and tried to breathe. “Unless you want to put me to sleep or make something that will calm my stomach, no.” the elf looked ashen and washed out. His eyes were glassy and he felt like he could fall over and sleep right on the deck if not for the rolling motion of the ship.

Arden dropped to his knees beside the elf and put his arms around him, pressing a small kiss to Fenris’ forehead. “I’m not sure what supplies there are aboard this ship, but there is a cabin below - do you think you could make it down there? I can put you to sleep if that is what you wish.”

“I want to be aware when we catch that ship, but some kind of tea or mint to wash the taste from my mouth would be appreciated love.” Fenris said quietly before he clawed his way back up and threw up again. Arden leaned close to hold the elf’s hair back out of the way as Fenris’ stomach spasmed and heaved, murmuring quiet reassurances as the elf groaned. He gently brushed stray locks of hair away from Fenris’ clammy forehead and gently cast a sleep spell upon the elf, catching him as his knees buckled.

“Hal,” he called quietly, and the red-haired man was at his side in a moment to help him carry the comatose warrior down to the cabin.

An early morning breeze sprang up as the sun rose, and Isabela grinned fiercely as the golden rays of the sun lit up the sails of the _Archon’s Flame_ ahead of them.

“The hunt is on,” she growled, and tacked into the wind.

**

Fenris woke up first, his head ached a bit and his eyes were dry from the crying jag the night before. He reached out gently to touch Invictus’ face, his expression sad. “Vic, what are we going to do?” he whispered. 

On the far side of the bed, Anders murmured something fitfully in his sleep, head jerking back as one hand clutched at the pillow, his breath an indrawn hiss as he fell silent again.

Invictus moved against the feel of someone touching him. “Hmm, no mother don’t want to get up yet.” he mumbled.

The kitten shifted from her position coiled on Anders’ pillow as the mage jerked and muttered again; she stalked slowly past Invictus’ head to crouch close to Fenris, regarding him with large green eyes the same shade as his own.

Fenris reached over and scooped up the tiny ball of fluff, and let her sit on his chest. “Such a protective little beast.” he murmured in Tevene. 

Anders suddenly flung out an arm and cried out in his sleep. “No, Maker, oh no, please - NO!” He thrashed, caught up in the middle of a nightmare.

Fenris hissed as the kitten dug her claws into his chest in fright and then yelled when Invictus shot straight up and managed to hit him in the face on his way up. “Venhedis, you both are sleeping with the dog tonight.” He winced as he extricated the cat and dabbed at the scratches that had already started to bleed. 

“What, what happened?” Vic muttered slowly. Anders was twisting about, his head tossing on the pillow as he panted and whimpered. “Please, no, no,” he moaned, eyes tight shut.

Invictus turned and shook Anders gently. “It’s a nightmare, wake up Anders.” he called quietly.

Anders’ eyes flickered open as he began to sob. “No, no - I - no....” His voice tailed off as he drew a ragged breath, eyes finally focusing on the mage leaning over him. “Where am I?” he muttered, voice thick as his breath hitched in his chest.

“In bed with me and Fenris and your small grey terror.” Vic said as he flopped onto his back.

“You punched me in the face Invictus.” Fenris said as he rubbed at his cheek.

Anders lay on his back, his ragged breathing gradually slowing as he stared up at the bed canopy, and then he rolled over onto his side with a low groan, curling in on himself slightly. “I thought I was back at Kinloch,” he said softly. 

The kitten bounced onto Invictus’ stomach then leapt lightly over to Anders, butting him gently in the face with her head before rubbing against him, purring comfortingly. His hands curled around her and he stroked her as his breathing calmed down.

Fenris got up and went to the bathing chamber to clean his wounds and see how much of a bruise the inadvertent punch was going to leave. 

“Great...just great.” Invictus muttered as he turned to face Anders. “Besides thinking this was solitary, how do you feel?”

Anders ran a hand over his face and drew a breath. “Sorry about that,” he said quietly. “Afraid the nightmares come with the territory, though they don’t warn you about that when you become a Warden. Memories of the Circle with added darkspawn - not a combination I’m too fond of.” He glanced back at Invictus and managed a reassuring smile. “I’ll be OK,” he said. “I’m a little stiff and sore, but otherwise I’m fine.” He glanced over towards Fenris. “Do you need a little healing, lo-” He broke off, swallowed self-consciously, then finished, “Fenris?”

“Perhaps, right now I’d settle for more sleep but that’s not going to happen.” Fenris said as he wiped his chest dry and winced at the scratches. “Fine, I guess I do, these fucking sting.”

Anders sat up and waggled a finger at the kitten. “Naughty Lady Whiskers Greymew,” he scolded. “Mustn’t scratch Fenris. He bites, you know.” He scooped her up and deposited her on his shoulder as he rose from the bed, crossing to stand before Fenris. “Hmm, those do look pretty deep,” he said, tsking. He lifted a hand and gently pressed his fingertips to Fenris’ chest, carefully avoiding the lines of lyrium as he sent a whisper of healing magic over his skin, enough to close the small puncture wounds and smooth the skin until only a few traces of dried blood showed where they had been. “Sorry about that,” he apologised. “She’s still young. She’ll learn though.”

“She was frightened, it’s not like it was on purpose.” Fenris said as he he reached up and gave the kitten a scritch between the ears. ”That name however is atrocious.”

“What’s wrong with it?” asked Anders, hunching in on himself a little, his voice defensive.

“I’ve met magisters with less pretentious names.” Fenris said with no heat in his voice and even a tiny smile. “I should wash up and figure out what to do with myself today.” The elf replied before he went back in to start the tub going. 

“A bath sounds good!” exclaimed Anders. “Was it my imagination, or were you both somehow with me in the tub last night? I don’t remember clearly, I think I passed out at one point....”

“Yes, we both were and you did pass out.” Invictus said quietly, his gaze was troubled as he made his way to the tub and glanced at Fenris, unsure if he was welcome to join them. 

Anders was oblivious as he set Lady down, casually stripping off his shirt as he followed Fenris. “Typical, I end up naked in a tub between two gorgeous men and I have to go fainting before I have a chance to properly appreciate it,” he chatted on. “Just my luck.”

Invictus didn’t respond, he just stripped slowly and kept his back to them so neither mage or fighter could see the despondent look he fought to control. He hated this careful, overly cautious manner he’d taken but didn’t know how else to act.

“You were barely conscious as it was, there was to be no appreciation of anyone in your state.” Fenris said as he sunk into the tub first.

Anders stared in open admiration of the elf’s body as he let his own clothes drop to the floor. “Believe me, I’m making up for lost time,” he breathed. He slipped into the tub with a hedonistic moan.

Invictus waited until Anders was in the middle then he slipped into the tub and tried to be quick with his bathing as he could, he wasn’t sure how he felt about things and being in the tub with them almost as if nothing was wrong was getting to him.

Anders rested his head upon the rim of the tub and moaned again. “Oh, this is bliss,” he said slowly then smiled. “So much nicer than... well, than any bath I’ve had in the past six years,” he finished. “And much nicer being awake enough to enjoy it, too.”

Vic just scrubbed himself silently then scooted back to give them room, unsure if he should even stay.

Fenris arched an eyebrow at him and tilted his head at the mage’s behavior. 

Though Anders seemed blissfully unaware, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the heat sinking into his body from the hot steaming water, he was acutely aware of Invictus’ reticence and withdrawal next to him. With a smile, he let himself sink down under the water, one hand reaching out to seemingly accidentally brush the mage’s bare side as the water closed over his head. He let his breath out slowly as he sank down.

“I’m done, I’ll leave you to enjoy the bath.” Vic said as he rose and hastily dried off so he could leave. It was too much for him, too soon after their hard talk and tears the night before. 

Anders flailed under the water, not expecting Invictus to suddenly pull away so swiftly, and he accidentally inhaled a mouthful of water, one flailing hand grasping desperately at the elf as he tried to get a foothold on the slippery tiles of the bath.

Fenris grabbed Anders and helped him sit up again before he glared at Invictus. “Really, after last night you’re just going to run away?” Anders coughed and gasped, spitting up water as he tried to breathe, his lungs burning as water streamed from his hair. He waved a hand at Invictus, trying to beckon the mage back as he tried to catch his breath.

Vic stood there, stiff and unsure of things as he looked to Fenris then at Anders. “It’s...too much, too...normal. I just need some time.” he pleaded. 

Anders managed to draw a ragged breath. “Stop running away, I’m not going to bite,” he gasped. 

“Fine.” Vic snapped as he flung his robe off and got back into the bath, his expression sullen. 

Anders rested his head against the back of the tub again as he tried to get his breathing back to normal. “What did I do?” he asked. “Do you really hate my touch that much, Invictus? Would you rather I left?” He coughed, throat still sore.

“No, I don’t hate your touch.” Invictus snarled, angry that he wasn’t able to be alone to deal with his feelings. “No I don’t want you to leave. I just...I just wanted time alone but never mind.” 

Anders shifted his head slightly so he could look properly at the other mage. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I feel like you’re trying to shut us all out. I don’t want to crowd you, but... Invictus, I just....” He reached a hand toward the other mage then stopped, remembering how he had pulled away at a seeming casual touch earlier. “Please. I don’t know what you’re thinking. All I know is that when you pull away like that, I can’t get the image out of my head of that demon hanging over you yesterday, feeding on you. It.... scares me. Please don’t shut us out, love.” The endearment slipped out without thinking.

Invictus shrugged and stared at the water. “Doesn’t matter Anders, none of it does. Let’s just finish bathing and perhaps have breakfast it’s all I’m capable of right now.” 

“Dammit Invictus stop this self loathing, it does not suit you, and you are pushing us away. Do you have any idea how hard it was to return last night? How much you’ve hurt me yet I remain and you still do this?” Fenris snapped finally, his eyes dark and his hands clenched into fists in the water.

Anders twisted around until he was kneeling before Invictus in the water, the small waves stirred up by his motion lapping around his throat as he stared up into Invictus’ eyes, his amber gaze earnest and worried as he took gentle hold of the other mage’s wrists, his grip loose so that Invictus could break it easily if he chose.

“It does matter, love, believe me. All of it does. You matter - to both of us. Please. Don’t shut us out like this.” His eyes pleaded with Invictus.

“Fine…” Vic said as he looked at them. “I’ll try but I’m not able to suddenly stop something I’ve done for years on command.” he said bitterly. 

“All I ask is that you try,” said Anders softly, his hands gentle upon the other mage’s wrists. 

“Fine, I’ll try now do you mind if I get dressed?” Vic said sullenly. 

Fenris huffed and rose from the tub, then grabbed a towel and swiftly dried off. “Come to bed Vic, both of you, you need to hear something and I hope to Maker it breaks down this wall of yours.” 

Anders released Invictus’ wrists as he lifted himself up on his knees, and then he leaned forward, lightly cradling Invictus’ face between his palms as he bent forward and gently brushed his lips over the other mage’s in a soft kiss, his lips parting slightly. he held still a moment, waiting to see if Invictus would return the kiss or pull away.

Vic glanced at him then at Fenris briefly before he kissed Anders back and leaned back in the tub, unsure why either of them still wanted him. 

Anders let his body drift forward in the water, moaning softly into the kiss as he opened his mouth, inviting Invictus to claim it. He threaded the fingers of one hand into the short dark hair as with the other he guided Invictus’ hand to cradle his own head, surrendering control of the kiss to the other mage.

Vic let himself feel the tenderness for a moment before he heard a soft call of his name and Anders.

“While I’m glad you are willing to indulge with us, I have something to tell you Vic and I hope once you hear it you’ll see you are not as irredeemable as you make yourself out to be. Come, both of you.” 

Vic kissed Anders one last time before he got out and made his way to the bed in time to be straddled by his elven lover. 

Anders opened his eyes as he felt Invictus pull away. He rose from the water, wringing out his hair and idly noting it was getting long again as he stepped from the tub, setting it to drain before he toweled himself off, rubbing his hair briskly with the towel before flinging the damp locks back over his shoulder and following Invictus into the bedroom. He paused by the foot of the bed as he took in how Fenris had the mage pinned by his weight across the other man’s hips, then circled round to the side until he could catch Fenris’ eye. He raised an eyebrow, wondering what part the elf wished him to play.

“If you can just...remind him he is loved while I talk Anders.” Fenris said as he shifted to get comfortable. “Are you alright with me sitting on you?”

“Yes..s--” Vic caught himself before he let the word slip out. He laid there, unsure what Fenris had to say to him that was so urgent.

Anders stretched out upon the bed beside the two men, his head resting close to Invictus’ as he reached up a hand and gently carded his fingers through the short dark hair then pressed light kisses along Invictus’ jaw.

Fenris sighed and collected himself before he began his tale of the Fog Warriors but with more information this time. This time he spoke of one he’d fallen for among the rebel tribe. “Vic, he gave me his heart as you have given me yours. He...he and I were out hunting and all I had to do was look out for predators. I was vigilant but he was still ambushed by a great cat and before my eyes, he...was torn apart. All I could do was run back to the village and tell them what happened to Cynis, how I fell apart in front of the Chief, sure he blamed me for the loss. I broke Vic, like you broke when Leandra died in your arms.

“I blamed myself and I fell into a dark place for weeks, I took every dangerous, potentially deadly errand the Chief had in an effort to surrender my life in exchange for his. It wasn’t until I’d nearly run to my death, almost happily that the elder of the tribe realized what I was doing. They thought it was merely grief at first but when I actually cried over waking up, they knew. I’m seeing that in you my heart and I don’t want to lose you like this. 

“It is not your fault Bethany died. It is not your fault Leandra was murdered by a madman. It is not your fault Carver became a Templar. Your father was sick, you told me yourself how he wasted away. How can you shoulder the blame and think you deserve such terrible treatment for what was an unfortunate end for all of them? You are not personally responsible Vic, you can’t save everyone. You certainly can’t save anyone else as long as you chain yourself with guilt and anguish. 

“I am no magister, no slaver and I will never, ever allow you to fall like you did before. It breaks my heart that you used me to be your living whip, assuaging your guilt with every ser or domne. It ends with your guilt love, and you will learn that we love you, and you don’t need to carry such pain in your heart that does not belong to you. You slew Quentin yourself, you cut down the Ogre that took your sister and well Carver...not much to be done about that unless one of you stops being stupid. But I told you my story so you’d see we all carry guilt Vic and unless you tie it around your neck and drag it behind you, it does not define you. Do you understand me?” 

Fenris’ words tapered off as he stared into soft brown eyes, then his gaze flickered over to Anders as he hoped the other man had something to add so Vic would see he was not as broken as he believed.

“Carver chose his own path in life,” said Anders softly. “He is his own man; he would always have gone his own way. And do not blame yourself for anything that happened to me; yours was not the hand that wielded the whips, love.” He pressed a soft kiss to the side of Invictus’ throat. “I have never held you to blame for what has happened to me.” He kissed slowly along the dark tan skin over Invictus’ collarbone. 

“We all have our own pasts; we are what we make of them. We can let them drag us down, or we can choose to live. When I came to my senses and found I had slain Ella... Invictus, if you had decided to slay me at that point I would have accepted death at your hand gladly. If you had decided to drag me to the Gallows, I would not have fought. But you spared me.” He gently cupped the mage’s chin and turned Invictus’ face towards him. “Do you regret letting me live, love?” he asked softly.

“No.” Vic said before he let out a choked sob and covered his face with his hands. “How do you go on with this guilt?” he said, but it was muffled by his hands.

Fenris pulled them away gently and kissed his face, just gentle brushes of his lips against the other man’s skin. “You learn, you don’t let it define and guide you. If I can learn this, certainly you can as well beloved. You’re a good man, you just need to see it for yourself.” 

“You take one breath, and another. One step, and then another. Life goes on. It is up to you to decide the kind of man you wish to be, Invictus. You can give in and fester in the past... or you strive to be a better man.” Anders pressed a gentle kiss to Invictus’ temple. “Arden began to change something in you. Had you not been capable of change, I would not be here. But I am. I’m here, with you and Fenris.” He leaned close to the other man’s ear and softly breathed, “I would love you... if you would let me.”

That broke Invictus and he turned as far as he could with Fenris perched on him and sobbed into the pillows. It was too much for him, to let out the grief, and guilt he’d carried for years. To be treated so gently when he’d been so hard on himself since Malcolm had died. 

Anders slipped an arm comfortingly around Invictus’ chest and pressed his forehead against his back, between his shoulderblades, his eyes closed as he simply held him. “You are loved,” he breathed, his breath warm upon Invictus’ skin.

Fenris slipped in front of Vic and pressed gentle kisses to his neck and shoulders. “Yes, you are my everything Vic and I would not trade you for the world. Please let us show you how much we care for you, and remind you that life is going on now and here. Please my heart.” 

Anders kissed gently down Invictus’ back, his hand sliding lower as he pressed light kisses slowly down the other mage’s spine.

Vic nodded, unsure of his voice as he felt them both being gentle with him and it made him gasp slightly as he felt gentle nips at his jaw and then a slow press of Fenris’ lips on his.

Anders slid further down the bed then lifted his head to glance up at Fenris, one hand resting lightly on Invictus’ hip, watching to see which way the elf chose to take matters.

Fenris kissed Vic slow and steady until he needed to breathe, he glanced at his lover...lovers he corrected himself before he spoke. “I would like to show you what you mean to me Vic, not by having you on your knees or begging me to be used. I want you to see how I love you. Will you consent to that?” 

“You may use me as you wish,” murmured Anders quietly, pressing a light kiss to Invictus’ hip. “What would you like, Invictus?”

“No using anyone, please.” Vic murmured as he looked at Fenris and then over his shoulder at Anders. “Just...make, don’t be rough with me I can’t take it right now.” 

“What would you like?” asked Anders gently. “To take me as Fenris takes you? My mouth on you? Tell me what you would like, Invictus.”

“Fenris, in me…my mouth on you...then maybe you taking me as well?” Vic said quietly, unsure how he wanted them both, but hopeful that them being gentle would help him. 

“Why don’t I lie beneath you, then you can take my mouth as you take me in yours and Fenris takes you?” suggested Anders, running his hand slowly up Invictus’ thigh.

“Sure...I guess I don’t quite know the how and what to do with two men instead of one.” Vic said as he rolled over so Anders could lie under him.

Fenris trailed his nails down Vic’s back and followed with gentle kisses, and murmured words of appreciation and adoration for his mage. “Oil please?” he asked as he sat back on his heels and looked down to see Anders getting comfortable. 

“Where is your tiny terror of a beast, wouldn’t want her to get in on the action or claw one of us again.” Fenris asked as he took the flask of oil from Invictus.

“Asleep on the dresser behind you,” chuckled Anders as he pulled a pillow beneath his neck for support, tilting his head back slightly as he drew his knees up and parted his thighs. He reached up with a hand and began to fondle Invictus’ balls as the other hand curled around the other mage’s cock, beginning to slide firmly up and down the thickening shaft, his thumb flicking briefly over the slit at the end of each upstroke. “Nice?” he asked softly.

“Hmm yes.” Vic moaned before he dropped his head down to return the favor and suck the tip of Anders cock into his mouth. 

Fenris slowly pushed a slick finger into his lover and watched for any sense he was not ready to be entered. He was surprised when Vic pushed back and moaned for more before he took Anders in his mouth again.

Anders groaned and arched his back as he felt hot wetness engulfing his cock then parted his lips and drew Invictus’ member down into his mouth, working his tongue along the shaft then flicking his tongue over the tip, swirling it about the glans before swallowing him down almost to the root.

That drew another low moan from the Champion and it made him arch back and spread his legs just a bit more. 

Fenris got the hint and added a second finger along with more oil. “I love you.” he whispered as he slowly stretched Vic open further and caressed his back gently.

Anders hummed agreement, the vibrations delicious against Invictus’ cock as the mage swallowed him down, Anders’ hips rising to meet Invictus’ mouth.

“Ready for me?” Fenris asked as he nipped at Vic’s ear and let a third finger open his lover further. He watched as the other man sucked Anders length in with enthusiasm. 

“Yes...please.” Vic moaned as he turned to kiss his elven lover briefly then went back to sucking.

Anders moaned wantonly as he felt Invictus drawing him in once more, and he arched his neck back slightly so the mage could slide deeper into his throat as the blond apostate clenched at the sheets beneath him, feeling a delicious tightness curling in his groin.

Fenris held Vic’s hips steady as he slid into his lover, a low moan of his name escaping him as he slowly thrust into Invictus, his eyes closed at the feeling of how tight and hot the mage felt around his cock. 

Anders’ eyes had closed as he abandoned himself to the wonderful sensations racing through his body, conscious only of the heat building in his groin, peaking slightly with each downthrust of Invictus’ mouth around his flesh and the feel of the other mage’s cock, thick and heavy, brushing the back of his throat with each thrust, breathing between each slide of Invictus’ member past his lips. He arched his back, his hips rising unconsciously to meet the mage’s mouth as he reached a hand down to slip a finger into himself. He briefly drew enough thought together to channel a little magic, letting a little spark of electricity fly from the finger deep inside himself and cried out with pleasure, the sound muffled as Invictus thrust into his throat as his body shivered.

Vic felt Anders shudder underneath him and moaned wantonly as he was taken slow and steady, the thrusting from Fenris counter to the way the other mage made him feel. He pulled away to call out to both of them, to beg for more, please, just a bit more as he was taken gently but steadily. 

Anders cried out as he felt Invictus’ mouth leave his heated flesh. He slipped a second finger inside himself, probing deeply, and let another spark of electricity fly from his fingers deep inside himself, each little jolt causing his body to shudder as he brought himself closer to climax. Fenris could feel a slight tug on his brands each time Anders let the magic spark deep inside himself, each flare of magic accompanied by a low breathless moan from the blond apostate.

“Vic...Vic….” Fenris moaned as he started to move faster, in cadence with the way he felt Anders using his powers beneath them.  
“Close…” Invictus growled before he reached under Anders, pulled his hand away and slipped two fingers inside the blond. 

Fenris’ eyes closed, his breath came in short pants as he tried to wait out the others orgasms before he let himself fall over the edge. 

Anders moaned as Invictus pulled his hand away; he pulled back from the other mage’s cock enough to beg breathlessly, “Electricity - small jolt -” He swallowed Invictus back down again as he curled one hand around the base of Invictus’ cock and let the smallest spark fly from his fingers into the mage’s shaft.

Vic yelped as he felt the tingle along his cock. “Oh fuck...oh fuck…” he gasped as he clenched down hard on Fenris; but tried to do the same in return to Anders.

“Ahhhh going to make me come too soon.” Fenris stuttered out as he lost his rhythm. 

The jolt of electricity from Invictus’ less experienced fingers deep inside Anders’ body threw him over the edge. Even as his back arched and he screamed, he climaxed hard, his seed spilling hot and wet over his belly even as his cry was muffled by the next thrust of Invictus’ cock into his throat.

That made Fenris jump but the way Vic clenched on him made him come, hips snapping hard and fast as he whimpered an apology to his lover. “Wanted...to last...longer love.”

Vic was busy lapping up Anders spend as he was fucked fast like he was used to. Instead of speaking he spread his legs far as he could and took the other mages cock deep in his throat as he was filled.

Exhausted and spent, Anders retained enough presence of mind to tap another little spark into Invictus’ cock, then another, each just enough to add a tingle to the sensations building in Invictus’ groin as he pumped in and out of Anders’ mouth, the blond apostate’s lips swollen and reddened around his hot flesh as Anders moaned, the vibrations adding to the sensations.

That forced Vic to finally come, his moans muffled around the cock in his mouth as he shuddered against the contrasting feeling of being stuffed full and being sucked off at the same time. He pulled back with a lewd pop and finished licking Anders belly clean. “Fuck me.” he said with a feral growl.

Anders felt and tasted Invictus’ seed hit the back of his throat and fill his mouth; he swallowed reflexively, until he had drained the last drop before he let the other mage’s cock slip free of his lips. He lay, limp and exhausted, his body racked by occasional tremors and shudders in the aftermath of the overload of sensations his body had been subjected to, his heart racing erratically as he gasped for breath beneath Invictus.

Fenris pulled away slowly and stumbled into the bath chamber to get cloths to wash them off with. He took care of Vic until the other mage pulled away. 

“No...I want more, please.” Vic moaned as he turned on his back and looked at Anders plaintively. “I want you.” 

Anders’ eyes opened slowly, his gaze unfocused as he fought to bring his heart and breathing under control. He rolled his eyes over toward Fenris helplessly then closed his eyes again.

“I think he’s done for now love.” Fenris said as he sat down next to him and caressed Vic’s face gently. “Perhaps you could take care of yourself?”

Anders attempted to roll over onto his side then gave up. His eyes opened briefly then slid shut again. “Think... ‘m done...” he mumbled.

“Yeah...not...done, please love.” Vic begged Fenris as he kissed the elf’s palm. 

“You know where you keep your toys, don’t let us get in your way. I don’t think I can keep up while you’re in such a mood.” Fenris leaned in and kissed him gently. “Take care of yourself, I could go unless you’d...rather I stayed. I don’t think Anders is moving for a while.”

“Can’t move,” agreed Anders, twitching a finger for emphasis. 

“Stay.” Vic muttered as he rolled over and pulled out the toy that Fenris had given him for Saturnalia the year before. It was polished marble, thick and ridged and heavy. Just what he needed to scratch the itch he was feeling.

Vic oiled it and turned to his back so he could inch it in slowly, feel each bit of it deep inside him. “Help me love.” he begged Fenris.

The elf sat next to Vic and took the base of the thick phallus in hand, then slowly slid it into his lover. “Like that?”

“Yeah...faster.” Invictus moaned as he flopped back to the bed and spread himself wide.

“Whatever you want beloved.” Fenris whispered as he thrust the marble cock into Vic as far as his lover could take then pulled it back slowly until it was almost out of the mage. “You’re beautiful like this...so open for us.” 

Vic’s head was turned aside and he whimpered in reply. “Please...close, so close love.” 

Fenris turned his wrist and plunged the toy in deep, then pulled out faster and faster until Vic was crying out on each thrust, writhing against him until he stiffened and started to come again, not as much as before but he coated his own stomach and he fell still. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you beloved.” Fenris said before he pulled the toy free and rose to clean it. He returned to bed and and caressed his lovers face. “Better?”

“Yes, I’m so sorry love.” Invictus said quietly as he rolled to his side to reach out for Fenris. 

Anders’ eyes fluttered open and he managed to roll onto his side, one hand falling limply toward the other two men. “Sorry,” he said quietly, his breathing more even and quieter now though he could still feel his heart give occasional erratic leaps.

“It’s ok.” Fenris said before he slipped between the covers and curled up with Vic, and tugged at Anders to lay against his back. 

The mage pushed himself shakily up onto hands and knees, clumsily shifting round then collapsing against Invictus’’ back, face pressed into the short hair, his chest against Invictus’ shoulderblade. The sated mage became aware of the thrum of Anders’ heartbeat through his thin chest, occasionally skipping a little as the other mage settled himself. 

“Thank you both.” Vic mumbled as he was held close, his eyes drifting closed as he felt Fenris’ heartbeat under his cheek. 

“Anything you need beloved, anything to help you on your path.” Fenris said quietly.

Anders reached one hand down to trail his fingers lightly down the side of Invictus’ face as he nuzzled into the mage’s short dark hair.

Vic fell asleep like that, nestled between the two men who cared for him, even when he could not see it to care for himself.

**

Captain Isabela rested a hand on the wheel and smiled grimly. Though the _Archon’s Flame_ was a larger vessel, it struggled more to make headway against the morning wind than the smaller, lighter vessel, and the two-masted brig was steadily closing the gap.

Hal approached her silently. “Mistress, I have done as you ordered. All lines are stowed and the sails trimmed.”

She started as she glanced round. “Sweet thing, you startled me.” She eyed the brand on his forehead then dropped her glance to his calm amber eyes that reflected the morning sun like liquid gold. She glanced at the sun. “Have you slept yet?”

“No, Mistress,” replied Hal calmly.

“Get below and find yourself a bunk. I’ll call you when we close the distance,” she ordered. She watched as the Tranquil mage departed below. "Damn me, but don't you make the prettiest cabin boy," she murmured to herself. "Shame about that damned sunburst brand. Criminal waste." She glanced up at the sun, then pulled out her sextant to take a reading. 

“Where are you heading for, my pretty fat bird?” she asked the other ship quietly.

Below decks, Arden crouched down beside Fenris, a mug of mint tea in one hand as he gently lifted the sleep spell. “Fenris? Love?” he asked tiredly. Across the cabin, Varric snored softly in another bunk.

“Hmmm, did we catch the ship yet?” he slurred tiredly.

“Not yet, but we aren’t far away now,” replied Arden. “I found some mint in the ship’s galley, and Hal had some elfroot in his pocket. Try a sip, hopefully it’ll ease your stomach a little.”

“Alright.” Fenris sat up slowly and took the mug with a grateful smile, until he tasted the elfroot.

“Sorry, love,” said Arden, his exhaustion showing in his voice as he dropped down to sit on the floor beside the bunk. “Couldn’t find any honey to help take away the bitterness I’m afraid.”

“It’s alright, not like this was a planned trip.” Fenris muttered as he chugged down the rest of the tea. “Besides, I’ll feel better once I get to tear out the heart of that bitch that took Anders from us.” 

Arden nodded, slumping against the bunk. “Love, I’m about done in,” he admitted. “I have no idea how Isabela can still keep going. Hal’s around somewhere as well.”

“Rest for a bit with me.” Fenris offered his hand to Arden, his gaze troubled.

Arden accepted the hand, falling rather heavily into the bunk next to Fenris. He flung an arm loosely around the elf’s waist and dropped swiftly into an exhausted sleep.

There was the sound of quiet footsteps on the stairs leading up to the deck, and Hal climbed down into view, pausing when he saw the elf was awake.

“You are rested?” he asked politely.

“As much as I can be Hal, how are you?” Fenris said.

Hal tilted his head to one side and appeared to consider the question. “I am well, though my body is tired. I have not worked on a ship before.”

“Try to rest, unless we are close to the other ship and need to act quickly.”

“Captain Isabela has ordered me to find somewhere to rest,” said Hal as he sat upon the steps. “I am not certain I will be able to sleep however. I feel a strange restlessness I cannot account for. Were I not Tranquil I would almost say I were... anxious. But that is not possible.”

“There is a bunk over there, you should stretch out and rest even if you cannot sleep.” Fenris said quietly. He kissed Arden’s temple gently and sighed. 

Hal inclined his head. “Very well.” He rose and crossed to the spare bunk, stretching himself out on his back and staring blankly at the wooden ceiling of the cabin.

Fenris shuddered at the way Hal stared up at the ceiling then dropped back down to lay with Arden. He didn’t know what else to do, and he didn’t want to make himself sick again by going on deck. Despite his efforts, his mind kept trailing to what could be happening to his lover.

A slight movement from Hal’s direction glimpsed out of the corner of his eye drew Fenris’ gaze unwillingly to the Tranquil mage once more. Hal had taken a small mirror from his pocket and was studying his own reflection, the fingers of his free hand drifting up to the brand upon his forehead. His lips appeared to move, though Fenris heard nothing. After a moment, the red-headed man laid the mirror upon his breast and folded his hands over it before closing his eyes.

Fenris watched him as he studied himself but made no move to disturb the former mage. Seeing him act so _un-tranquil_ was creeping him out.

A few moments after closing his eyes, Hal’s hands fell limply away from the mirror, his breathing evening out and deepening as the red-head dropped into deep, dreamless sleep. The mirror fell to one side, dislodged by the rise and fall of Hal’s chest as he slept.

Fenris laid back and stared at the ceiling, his mind turning over Hal’s behavior as a distraction from what they could face once they caught up to the Tevinter ship. 

**

Anders’ eyes felt gritty and sore. He tried to open them but could see nothing. He was lying on his back; he could feel hard wood beneath the bare skin of his back, and there was a foul taste in his mouth. He tried to sit up but his body wouldn’t respond.

His limbs felt heavy, and his stomach lurched nauseously. He tasted bile in the back of his throat, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth.

Magebane. He’d been drugged with magebane.

His thoughts were disjointed; he vaguely remembered the drunken stagger from the Hanged Man, then shouting. Isabela - was it Isabela? Someone shoved him to the ground. There was blood and screaming but he’d been too concerned with trying to struggle back to his feet.

There’d been a hand on his shoulder and then a bright light that hurt his eyes before darkness.

There was a cut across his wrist; it stung painfully, throbbing. Hands on his arm.

“How much?” He didn’t recognise the voice. It was speaking Tevene.

“Two pints this time. The Chantry will wish samples.”

“When shall we begin the Rite, Master?”

“Soon. I have certain... experiments I wish to perform first.”

He rolled his head, trying to speak but his tongue wouldn’t co-operate.

“He stirs, Master.”

“So I see.” Footsteps approaching closer, then a hand laid across his forehead, the skin cool and dry like old leather. He tried to flinch away but his body wouldn’t obey him. A dry chuckle.

“You may begin.”

Something sliced into the bare skin of his chest, and then liquid splashed across the wound as it began to sting. He had a bare moment to recognise the smell of lyrium before the cut began to burn like a thousand white-hot suns, and he screamed.

**

Fenris couldn’t sleep any longer and he rose unsteadily to his feet. He felt weakened from being so seasick, and the aftertaste of the tea didn’t help at all. “I should eat but that means moving from this spot.” he mumbled. 

Arden stirred briefly but didn’t awaken. 

The elf looked over to where Hal seemed to have fallen asleep before he rose and headed to the doorway. 

Hal’s eyes opened and he turned his head to watch the elf. He reached for the mirror then glanced down, plucking it up from where it had fallen to tuck it into a pocket before he swung his legs over the side of the bunk and slipping after the elf on silent feet.

“Say something, don’t just wander behind me silently Hal.” Fenris muttered as he went up the stairs toward the galley.

The Tranquil mage paused, then stepped closer. “I am sorry. I am accustomed to walking silently in the Chantry.”

“It’s alright, I know what it means to be seen and not heard. If you would come with me in case I become ill again, I would appreciate it.” Fenris said softly as he tried to keep himself from swooning against the walls.

Hal stepped in smoothly to Fenris’ side, slipping a hand around the elf’s waist. He was of a height with Arden, a comparison that Fenris couldn’t help but make in such close proximity to the Tranquil mage. “Where do you wish to go?” Hal asked quietly.

“The galley, I need something to eat before we catch the ship else I will be useless in the fighting to come.” Fenris let Hal help him along, surprised at the strength in his grip as they walked. Hal nodded and guided their steps toward the galley. He helped Fenris to take a seat upon a bench once they reached the small kitchen before moving around with familiar ease in the small space, his feet steady and sure as the ship shifted and rolled gently beneath their feet. He began preparing some light food for Fenris.

The elf watched him and took the plate gratefully, he ate carefully and slowly. “Have you been ill while on the ship Hal?”

“No,” replied the red-head simply as he opened a cannister and sniffed the dried herbs within, setting the cannister down before reaching for the next.

After a few more moments of quiet, Fenris asked about the mirror. “Hal, what were you seeking when you kept looking in the mirror?”

Hal’s hands stilled upon the cannister in his hand. His hand went unthinkingly to the brand upon his forehead. He turned and stared at Fenris. “My... face,” he said, his voice a little uncertain, as though he were unsure how the elf would respond.

“What about your face?” Fenris asked solemnly.

Hal dropped his eyes to the floor. “I remember how I appeared before the brand. I... was trying to see myself... without it.”

“Is this related to the glyph Arden saw you make?” Fenris asked as he looked at Hal and tried to picture him without the brand. 

Hal raised his head. “I think something is wrong with me,” he said flatly. “I have intrusive thoughts that I should not have. I am Tranquil.”

“Perhaps when we return we can find out more, or perhaps it is because of...Anders’ occasional glowing around you.” Fenris said softly. 

Hal turned and glanced toward the porthole. “They will hurt Anders,” he said calmly. “He carries a spirit within him yet is not an abomination. They will seek to understand why.” He stared back at Fenris. “He may not be the man you remember when you find him.”

“What do you mean?” Fenris said in a panic. “What will they do to him?” 

“I was assigned to the Knight Commander’s office for a while. She had heard of Anders. The Chantry desired to lay hands upon him for certain experiments. The Imperial Chantry likely wishes to perform those same experiments upon him.” Hal turned and set the cannister upon the counter and reached for the next one as calmly as though he were discussing the weather and not the fate of the man Fenris loved.

“Hal, stop what you are doing and tell me what you mean by experiments. What kind of experiments, what were they going to do to him?” Fenris had grabbed the man’s wrist to make him look at him, he knew he sounded hysterical but he didn’t care. 

Hal glanced at Fenris’ hand then up at the elf’s face. “They wish to know if it is truly possible to reverse the Rite of Tranquility,” he said calmly.

The elven fighter let go of Hal and fell back in his seat. “Why...he’s never been Tranquil, he never became an abomination either. No...they’ll likely do horrible things to him. We have to catch that ship.” Fenris said as he sat there and tried to calm himself. “I am sorry for grabbing you Hal, are you hurt?”

“It has been theorised that forced possession of one of the Tranquil might reverse the Rite,” said Hal as he rubbed his wrist; livid fingerprints stood out against his olive skin where the elf had gripped him. “Anders himself had also considered the possibility I believe. They may attempt the Rite upon him. If the theory is correct, the Rite should not render Anders Tranquil.” He glanced at his wrist. “Your grip is... very strong,” he finished.

“I apologize, I should not have grabbed you. Forgive me Hal.” Fenris stood and looked towards the doorway. “Tranquility is his worst fear, he will not survive if they try to brand him or Justice will take them all down if they attempt it. We need to see how close we are to the ship.” 

“All hands on deck!” came a shout from above.

“Well there’s my answer.” Fenris said as he headed up on deck, glad he’d taken his sword with him. 

Isabela stood by the wheel, staring at the other ship which was much closer now. The wind had shifted a few points, filling the aft lateen sail of the small brig whilst the large square-rigged sails of the other vessel still flapped sluggishly.

The pirate glanced over her shoulder as the elf and the red-head emerged into the daylight above decks. “Hal, go wake the others. We’ll be closing within the hour,” she ordered. Hal disappeared below again.

“There she is, sweet thing; the _Archon’s Flame_. How do you feel about a bit of boarding and looting?”

“You can do as you please as long as I get Anders back, the rest does not matter to me.” Fenris said as he stared at the ship, his mind full of what he’d discussed with Hal.

“I hope Hawke brought plenty of lyrium with him,” she observed. “It’s going to take fireballs a-plenty to bring down her sails and hole her below the waterline. A pity; I’d like to claim her, but there’s no way we could crew her ourselves.” She lashed the wheel steady then jerked her head at Fenris. “Come on, I have something to show you.” She walked for’ard, dropping down to the main deck and approaching one of several objects on deck that was shrouded by tarpaulin.

“What is it?” Fenris said as he followed behind her, his gaze on the horizon so he could keep down his meal. 

Isabela twitched off the tarpaulin to reveal a large ballista. “This, my dear, is one of the reasons I chose this ship. She’s fast - and she’s armed, unlike yon big merchanter wallowing over there.” She bent down and picked up a large iron spear. The point had been wrapped in tar and pitch. “This will be our weapon against their wood; fire. We’ll load them now and give them a broadside as we draw level before Hawke lets rip with magic.” She shrugged. “It’s a shame Hal’s Tranquil; we could use a second mage. But we’ll make do with what we have.”

“Excellent.” Fenris said as he walked around to load them. “Tell me if I’m doing this right, we don’t get a second chance to try this.” 

“A ballista is basically a giant crossbow; even Hawke’s servant’s boy Sandal could load one,” replied Isabela. She waved to Arden, Varric and Hal as they came up on deck. “Get loading, boys!” she called.

“Aye Captain.” Fenris said as he worked to load them up then stepped away so Isabela could inspect their work. Isabela nodded with satisfaction then turned to her “crew”.

“We’ll only get one chance to take them down,” she said, her expression serious. “They’re bigger than us and better crewed, and we don’t know how many magisters might be on board. Much though I hate to do it, we need to cripple her and put her to the torch swiftly - and kill every misbegotten whoreson that gets in our way.” She glanced at Arden. “Hawke, I need you fireballing every flammable thing you can see on that deck. If it can burn, I want it incinerated. Fireballs, firestorm, lightning - whatever you’ve got, hit them with it, especially any magisters you see.”

Arden nodded grimly. She turned to Varric. “Varric, I want suppression fire. Take out any man with a bow or staff in his hands. Kill them all and let the Maker sort it out afterwards. You have any fire arrows, use ‘em. I don’t want a single thing moving on that deck that isn’t one of us.”

She turned to Hal. “I want you on the ballistae. Keep them loaded and firing.”

The Tranquil mage nodded. Finally Isabela turned to Fenris.

“And you, sweet thing, do what you do best. Swing over when we’re close enough to board and kill anything that gets in your way that isn’t Anders. I’ll keep the ship as close to as I can without setting us on fire. The moment you have your mage safe back on board, we run. Got it?”

“That’s my plan. Let’s take that ship and get him back.” Fenris snarled as he made sure his sword was secure as he awaited his chance to rescue his lover.

**

Anders moaned, his body a mass of crisscrossing lines of pain. He had lost count of how many times he had lapsed into unconsciousness, only to be dragged back screaming to consciousness once more. They had bled him until he was white, drugged on magebane until he could barely breathe, and yet they would not leave him alone.

“They have fired the sails, Master.”

The words meant nothing to him. His world had been reduced to pain; a hand in his hair, wrenching his head back painfully, his hands chained behind his back, the manacles smeared with more magebane. Justice was a distant sensation in the back of his mind, walled off behind a drugged fog, impotent to help Anders as the mage raised bleary eyes to try and focus on the magister approaching him. There was something in the magister’s hand - something that glowed.

“No matter. They are too late.”

The fingers in his hair tightened and he whimpered as he was forced to stare up at the magister. The glowing object came closer, and with horror he recognised it, the heat radiating from the brand as the magister lifted it towards his forehead.

“No! NO! NO!!” he screamed as he thrashed wildly, desperately trying to pull away from the hands that held him. “Not that! NO!”

The brand came nearer. His eyes wide in terror, Anders desperately twisted in the hands of his captors, feeling the heat upon his forehead as the brand descended towards his brow.

Fenris could hear his screams as he approached the door. It shattered at a blow from his sword and in an instant his eyes took in the scene; Anders bent backwards, two Imperial Chantry guards holding him down, a third with his gauntleted hand snarled in the blond apostate’s hair, forcing his head back as a magister loomed over the terrified, bloodied mage. Anders screaming as the brand descended towards his forehead.

The elf didn’t think, he moved through the Fade and the magister faster than they could have seen as he yanked the brand away and flung it across the room. “No, he is not yours to brand!” Fenris screamed as he used his other hand to tear the still beating heart from the one that was about to cut him from the Fade. 

“You will not have him!” he screamed in rage as he stood over Anders, his brands lit and his hand crushing the magister's heart before he flung it away. “Who wants to die next?”

The guards either side of Anders fell back with cries of fear, but the one who held Anders by the hair was foolhardy enough to draw his blade.

Fenris laughed darkly before he ghosted again and appeared behind him to snap his neck with a sickening crack. “Two down, two to go,” he hissed.

Anders fell to the floor, curling in upon himself, babbling quietly in terror even as the two guards backed away. In the corner of the room flames suddenly licked up a drape as the white-hot brand set fire to the fabric, lighting the room in flickering red even as smoke from the burning ship drifted in the door, giving the blood drenched scene an even more nightmarish aspect.

Fenris didn’t waste time with more threats, he relieved them of their heads in short order before he turned to help Anders up. “Come on love, Isabela awaits us and I’d rather not go down with this ship.” 

“No, please, no, no,” whimpered Anders as he sagged against Fenris, his face white.

“Anders look at me, it’s Fenris. We need to get off this damn ship. Do I need to carry you?” He said as he looked in Anders eyes, worried when saw the far off look in his lover’s gaze. “It’s me, I’ve got you alright?”

“You’re a dream,” said Anders, his eyes unfocused. “This isn’t real. I’m going to wake up any minute and it’s going to hurt.” His knees suddenly buckled and he whimpered as his eyes rolled back in his head.

“ _Fasta vass_ , you would faint on me now.” Fenris muttered as he picked Anders up and put him over his shoulder before he made his way back to the deck. “He’s out cold, I need a hand.” Fenris yelled over to Isabela.

“HAL!” bellowed the pirate as she left the wheel and strode to the side of the upper deck. The Tranquil mage sprinted up the deck and reached for the wheel as Isabela flung herself toward a rope and swung lithely across the gap between the two ships, landing lightly on the burning deck. “Hurry!” she called to the elf as she held onto the rope.

Fenris went over to her and wrapped the rope around Anders before he held onto him and nodded to Isabela. She wrapped a shapely leg around Fenris’ waist as she slung an arm around ANders’ shoulders then took a firm hold of the rope just above Fenris’ grip. She leaned back and then kicked away strongly. They hung in midair, the wind rushing past them, and dimly Fenris was aware Isabela was laughing wildly; the mad woman was actually _enjoying_ herself. Then the ship’s deck rushed up towards them and they dropped in a huddle on the wooden planks as Hal spun the wheel hard astern and they pulled away from the burning hulk of the three-master.

Fenris grunted from the impact then unwound the rope so Anders could be stretched out. “Arden!” he called as he looked over the blond, dismayed at how pale and drawn he was, and the cuts on his arm made him scowl angrily. 

Arden dashed up onto the upper deck and dropped to his knees beside the unconscious mage. “Maker!” he breathed as he stared at Anders’ bloodless face. “Did they leave a single drop of blood in his body?” He reached for the manacles then bit off a cry, clutching his hand. “Magebane, damn them!”

Fenris snapped the manacles with a low growl and looked to Arden in despair. “I’ll help clean him up so you can touch him. Get Hal, he can assist without fear of what it will do to him.” 

“I am here,” said Hal quietly as he stepped away from the wheel, relinquishing it to Isabela as Varric puffed up.

“Aw, hell, Blondie, look what they did to you,” groaned the dwarf. 

Fenris’ head was bent as he fought to control himself but Varric’s pity undid him and he bent over until he was resting on Anders chest and started to weep, muttering apologies to his lover even though he couldn’t hear him. 

Anders’ chest barely stirred with each breath, his heart beating erratically beneath Fenris’ ear. His skin felt cold, the cuts across his chest barely scabbed over. As the ship heeled over to the side onto her new heading, the afternoon sun glinted almost metallically off the grey-brown scabs, and a familiar scent filled Fenris’ nostrils. Lyrium.

The elf’s sobs quieted and he stood up, drawing Anders up with him. “Hal help me please.” Fenris said hoarsely as they started to take Anders to the bunkbeds below. He didn’t want to see Varric or Isabela’s pity as he went past. The red-head moved to help him as the dwarf drew back, averting his eyes from the elf’s tears. Isabela kept her eyes on the horizon as she turned the ship.

Arden brought up the rear, following the others down as Varric remained on deck with Isabela. He watched, his amber eyes troubled, as Fenris and Hal laid Anders on the nearest bunk. He excused himself and made his way swiftly to the galley, fetching water and cloths before returning. He set the water down by Fenris, heating the water swiftly.

Fenris washed Anders' arms up to the elbow and his neck just in case they had put anything around his neck during his captivity. He stepped back so Arden could do what he was able for Anders. He sat on the other bunk and watched his lovers silently, not even turning when he felt the dip and heard Varric’s low voice next to him. 

“How is he doing?” asked the dwarf as Arden crouched over Anders’ still form, his head bowed as he pressed hands that glowed a soft blue to Anders’ chest and forehead. Hal watched silently, uncorking a vial of lyrium and pressing it into Arden’s hand when he lifted it briefly and gestured in his direction. Arden knocked it back and dropped the empty vial on the floor before returning to his work.

“I don’t know...they were going to brand him,” Fenris said as he stared ahead, unblinking and unwilling to let Varric see him break again. 

Varric drew his breath in sharply, but he held his tongue as they watched Arden working.

A little more colour seemed to have returned to Anders’ face but he was still far too pale for anyone’s liking. Arden had healed the cuts and the strange scabs across Anders’ chest, and the mage’s breathing sounded a little easier. His eyes remained closed as Arden sat back wearily, swaying slightly.

“I can’t do any more,” he said hoarsely. “He’s lost a lot of blood, and magic can only do so much.” He glanced over to Fenris. “I don’t know how long he’ll be out. They... I’m not sure what they were trying to do. There was lyrium in some of his wounds. They’d bled him - more than once I think. His body is full of magebane; it was resisting my magic.”

“In his wounds? What in the Void where they doing?” Fenris said as he rose to help Arden to lie down. “Rest, I’ll stay with both of you.” 

“I don’t know,” said Arden as he dropped gratefully down onto the bed. “Don’t let him wake alone please. I’m afraid - afraid for him.” He closed his eyes and was asleep almost instantly, the battle and the healing after having drained him.

Fenris sunk into a nearby chair and covered his face with his hands. “I hate Tevinter.” he muttered angrily. 

Hal stayed sitting near Anders’ head, one hand gently stroking the dark blond hair away from the unconscious mage’s forehead. He lightly traced a finger over the smooth, unmarred brow.

“You were in time,” he said quietly. “They did not brand him.”

“A small mercy, but the look of terror on his face will haunt me for all my days.” Fenris said quietly. 

Hal’s hand drifted up to the brand on his own forehead. “I remember the feeling of terror when they came for me,” he said quietly, “Though the feeling of fear cannot affect me now, I remember how it affected me then. It was like the fear of death. I did not want to die. I did not wish to be made Tranquil. I remember how it felt, to be so afraid.” He was silent a moment. “Could I feel, I would probably pity him. Feel sympathy.” He raised his head and stared at Fenris. “I remember how it felt to weep, but I cannot,” he said softly.

Fenris dropped his hand and looked to Hal. “I will feel for you, shed tears where you can no longer do so.” 

Hal stared at him, his eyes unblinking. “I wish I could feel again,” he said softly.

That surprised Fenris, enough so he leaned forward and took Hal’s hand. “I wish you were not sundered and had that taken from you.” he said quietly. 

Hal gazed at Fenris. “Thank you,” he said quietly. The complete lack of emotion in his voice made its quiet statement somehow all the more bleak. After a moment the Tranquil mage withdrew his hand from Fenris’ grasp and rose to walk slowly to one of the other bunks. Stretching himself out upon his back, he closed his eyes and dropped into a still, dreamless sleep.

Fenris was beginning to drift off to sleep himself some hours later when Anders suddenly awoke, screaming in sheer raw terror as he sat up and scrabbled backwards, hands raised as though to ward off some unseen assailant.

The elf tumbled out of the chair then went over to Anders. “Love, calm down we have you, calm down.” He said soothingly. 

Anders shrank back, eyes wide with fear. “No, no, please don’t, I beg you, don’t!” he cried. 

Arden blinked and sat up, disoriented as Hal rolled over and came to his feet. Varric was sitting up and wincing.

“Maker, Blondie, you could wake the dead screaming like that,” the dwarf groused.

“Don’t please, don’t,” Anders continued to beg, eyes staring through Fenris. “Please, anything but that!”

Fenris let his brands glow and he gently turned Anders face to his. “Beloved, hear me. You are safe, you are not captive and you are with us again. Hear me, please.” 

Anders blinked, his eyes slowly focusing on Fenris even as he lifted a hand to shade his eyes. “I’m dreaming,” he whispered. “This isn’t real. I’ll wake up in a moment and you’ll be gone. They’re going to brand me and I’ll never dream again.” He began to sob brokenly. “Don’t let them take me, please... don’t let me wake. I don’t want to go back there, it hurts.”

“Anders, I am real. You have been rescued, now stop it and come back to us,” Fenris said as he leaned in and kissed Anders in the hope he’d see just how real he was.

Arden slipped in beside him, gently slipping an arm around Anders’ waist as he lifted a hand to stroke the long blond hair. “We’re both here, love. We’re on a ship going home. You’re safe now. This isn’t a dream.”

Anders slowly quietened and stared about him, eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re really here? I’m not dreaming?” he whispered, staring at Arden then Fenris, reaching up with trembling hands to touch their faces.

Fenris closed his eyes and set his hand over Anders, a smile on his face. “I failed you, I’m sorry but you’re safe now my heart. Please, know we are here.” 

“I knew you’d come for me,” breathed Anders. “You wouldn’t leave me in their hands.” He clung to Fenris, looking from the elf to Arden. “Both of you. You wouldn’t let me rot in their prison. You’d save me.”

Fenris swallowed, suddenly guiltier than he’d been when Anders had been snatched right from under him. “I’ll always be there for you no matter what.” he said softly as he glanced at Arden then clung to Anders in return.

“I was so, so frightened,” confessed Anders. “More terrified than I’ve ever been since my Harrowing. I can still feel -” he broke off and pressed a hand to his forehead, and abruptly laughed, the laughter tinged with hysteria. “I can still feel!”

“Yes, you can still feel love.” Fenris said quietly as he pulled back and kissed Anders' forehead. 

Arden raised an eyebrow at Fenris over Anders’ head as the mage clung to Fenris’ chest, alternatively laughing and crying. He lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers then gestured at Anders, his eyes silently begging the question. 

Fenris nodded slowly as he stroked the back of Anders' head, a frown at how he was reacting. Arden gently laid his hand upon Anders’ head and there was a light whisper of magic that tugged briefly at Fenris’ brands, and then Anders’ head drooped as his laughter quietened. He slumped into Fenris’ arms with a soft sigh as his eyes closed.

The elf laid him back down then stood on shaking legs to go up on deck. He’d been startled awake and didn’t think he’d find sleep any time soon. 

The sun was setting, low on the horizon, turning the sea the colour of blood. 

“How is he?” asked Isabela quietly.

“He finally believes he’s been rescued and it’s not a dream. Then he went a bit hysterical after he realized he could still feel.” Fenris said as he slumped against the railing. 

“From all I’ve heard of Tranquility, it’s understandable,” shrugged the pirate, stifling a yawn. “Maker but I’m tired. I haven’t slept in far too long.”

“Hal has slept, he can take the wheel for a while. I am too unsettled to steer.” Fenris said quietly. 

Isabela shook her head. “No, I’ll take us into that small cove over there - see it? We’ll be safe to drop anchor there and then I’ll get some shut-eye,” decided Isabela. “Spooky is fine to steer on a straight course but I don’t want to have to trust to him if a storm came up during the night. Better we drop anchor and get some proper rest. I can hardly bring this pretty thing sailing brazenly back into Kirkwall after having stolen her anyway.”

“True enough, I will stand guard until we set off in the morning. I will sleep no more tonight.” Fenris straightened and kept an eye out as they reached the cove. Once the ship was secured he waved Isabela off to get some rest, he had enough on his mind to keep him awake well until the next day. 

He was unused to the sounds of the ship; it took some time until he realised that the faint sound he kept hearing from somewhere near the prow of the ship was no natural sound of wood creaking or waves whispering against the hull.

“Who’s there?” Fenris called as he pulled his sword free and headed towards the sound, being sure to creep silently as he could. 

There was a sound of someone sniffing, as though trying to hold back tears. It seemed to be coming from a dark shadowy figure, crouched down in a huddle by the railing; it was hard to make out details in the faint starlight.

“Arden, is that you?” Fenris called softly even as he crept forward, unsure who else it could be other than Varric and he wasn’t the type to weep in dark corners. 

The figure shifted slightly, and a dark red braid slipped over the figure’s shoulder as it turned slightly towards him, trembling.

Fenris nearly dropped his sword in shock. It was either Hal or the dead Hawke Arden had told him about. Neither was a good option, since one was Tranquil and couldn’t cry and the other was quite dead. “Come out where I can see you.” he said. 

The figure rose shakily to it’s feet and turned so the starlight fell fully on his face, illuminating the brand upon the forehead.

“Help me,” whispered Hal. “I’m afraid.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Anders are having a Really Really Bad No-Good Day. No peace in dreams or waking, will either version survive this with their sanity intact? Hal and one Fenris have a heart-to-heart, whilst the other Fenris comes to terms with learning what the calling means for the fledgling relationship between himself, Invictus and Anders and discovers more of his own past. They discover that the demon in the mirror is something far worse and older than any of them could have dreamed. Anders promises to teach merrill the electricity trick - but it's going to take a lot more than a few spells to get our heroes through what faces them....

Invictus and Fenris were startled awake by Anders screaming.

“No! No! Not that! NO!” The blond apostate was gripped in the throes of another nightmare, thrashing wildly, his voice a hoarse scream of sheer raw terror.

“Not again,” mumbled Invictus as he rolled away, wincing at the volume of Anders’ screams. Fenris had rolled out of the bed, brands lighting up as he stared wildly round for the source of the attack at the first piercing cry; it took a moment for his sleep-befuddled brain to catch up and realise the blond apostate was dreaming. He circled around the bed and reached for the struggling mage.

“Anders, calm yourself, it is only a dream,” he said soothingly, but the mage stared at him in panic and shrank away from his outstretched hand, eyes wide in fright.

“No, no, please, not that, I beg you!” he cried as he scrabbled away from the elf, backing away until his back hit the headboard. “No, no, NO! NO!!” He threw his head back sharply and both Fenris and Invictus winced at the loud crack as the back of his head hit the wall hard. His scream was abruptly cut short and his eyes rolled back in his head before he crumpled insensible against the headboard, slumped sideways, leaving a faint smear of blood upon the wall.

“ _Venhedis_ , this is beginning to become a habit,” muttered the elf as he reached for the mage and gently lifted him back down into the bed again.

“No... please... don’t want to be tranquil,” mumbled Anders softly, then was silent. Fenris and Invictus exchanged a worried glance. Fenris brushed a hand over the back of Anders’ head then stared at the blood smeared on his fingers. 

“Invictus, I think he needs your attention; I fear our apostate lover has given himself a serious concussion,” he remarked as he wiped the blood off on the down comforter and moved aside so the other mage could do what he could with what meagre healing spells he could cast.

“Fuck…” Vic said as he settled his mind and called up what healing magic he knew to see how bad the injury was. “I think he managed to cut his scalp and head wounds always bleed heavily. We need to turn him over, gently and clean the cut then I’ll close it.” 

Fenris helped him then got clean, wet cloths to help him clean the wound. Once Vic could see the small cut had indeed bled profusely, he closed it with a lot more concentration than it should have taken but it was done. The concussion thankfully was not as bad as the elf had feared.

“Bodahn is going wonder what the hell we’re doing with all the screaming and blood on the sheets.” Fenris mused. “When will he... ah.”

As he spoke, Anders’ eyes had flickered and the mage moaned faintly. His eyes opened slowly and he stared about him in confusion. “The ship... what... where is the magister?” he slurred.

“There is no magister here, what are you dreaming of?” Fenris asked.

Vic’s eyes narrowed in thought. “I wonder...if this has something to do with Endrin, my passing between Kirkwall’s…” he said quietly. 

“I was on a ship. There were... templars, from the Imperial Chantry, and a magister. They were going-” Anders’ voice tightened and he gasped briefly. “They were going to make me Tranquil. I can still feel the heat of the brand as it got closer....” he made a faint whining noise in the back of his throat, unaware he had started to push himself backwards, as though still seeing the white-hot brand approaching.

“Anders, you are safe and not on a ship nor about to be branded.” Fenris said as he wound up with a lapful of mage. He looked down into amber eyes that saw right through him. “Is it possible...you are connected to that other Kirkwall, as Vic seems to be?” he wondered.

“It felt so real,” said Anders, staring down at his arms, turning his hands over as he stared at his wrists. “There were cuts all up my... his? arms... they bled him... me... us. I could taste magebane.” He shuddered and curled in upon himself. “Something terrible has happened,” he breathed. “I don’t know how I know this, but... I’m deathly afraid.”

“Be not afraid with us Anders, we will protect you. I can hope my counterpart does the same along with Arden for your other self. Come, you should eat and if possible, attend your wound.” Fenris leaned down and kissed Anders forehead gently then looked to Invictus.

“The Imperial Chantry must be in dire straits to come all the way to Kirkwall for our apostate’s double. He ...perhaps his spirit, or the fact he has not turned in all this time has gotten their attention.” he mused.

“The magister spoke of experiments,” remembered Anders.

“Experiments, what kind of experiments?” Invictus asked as he rose and looked for something to wear.

Anders frowned and pressed the heels of his palms against his forehead, trying to draw the memories out from the confused haze of the other Anders’ terror and pain, past his own splitting headache. “Lyrium,” he said slowly. “I remember them pouring lyrium into my - his wounds.” He dropped a hand to his own chest, feeling the skin smooth and unbroken there, save for the scar over his heart from Ser Rylock’s sword thrust so many, many years ago. “They forced potions down his throat but I’m not sure what they were.”

“Lyrium, why lyri…” Fenris’ mouth shut as he recalled a comment Danarius had made once. “Spirits are attracted to Lyrium; they wanted to attract, but he’s got a spirit already - why would they do that?” He frowned in confusion, it made no sense, not for the other Anders at least.

“Maybe they were trying to drive Justice out?” wondered Anders. 

“Either way, it sounds like it was unpleasant for him, and by extension you. I am relieved I was never drawn to this other place.” Fenris muttered. 

“As am I, I don’t know if I could survive without you.” Vic said earnestly.

“It was very strange,” said Anders quietly, uncurling a little as he let his head drop back to rest against Fenris’ shoulder. “Like staring in a mirror, except there were little things... he never harmed Ella, and contact with Arden had... gentled him. But being with him - we... we fell into a pattern together. It was as though we thought alike. When healing together, we didn’t need to speak, each anticipating what the other was about to do because it was what we each would have done next.” He blinked, thoughtful. “Like... one soul in two bodies.” He smiled faintly. “He took to wearing a gold hoop in one ear so everyone else could tell us apart better.”

“Creepy.” Fenris muttered without thinking as he laid there with Anders in his lap. He winced at the look he got in return. 

“As creepy as two Fenrises would be?” said Anders acerbically as he pulled away from the elf, lifting a hand to rub the back of his head absently. “Why is my head... oh.” He closed his eyes and channeled a little healing magic to relieve the pain and inflammation. “That would be why I was seeing double,” he remarked.

“Probably, I apologize for the remark.” Fenris said as he rose as well and stretched out the kinks in his back and neck. “I’m getting old, or I can’t keep up with two lovers like I thought.” He said after a loud pop of his back. 

Anders rose to his feet and stretched, his back making an even more impressive sequence of cracking noises. “You’re at least ten years younger than I am and an elf to boot,” he remarked as he pressed his palms to the small of his back and let a little healing magic trickle in there as well. “You’ll outlive me by decades, the pair of you, so I wouldn’t complain if I were you.”

“I don’t actually know my age.” Fenris said as he pulled a shirt from the wardrobe and tugged it on. 

“Well, I can tell you as your healer that certainly you’re physically more youthful than I am,” replied Anders as he glanced around for his clothes. “And my second statement still stands.” He frowned and wondered where his shirt had ended up.

The elf remained quiet as he dressed. The fact that he knew nothing of his life before his markings was something that bothered him, no matter how he acted about it. 

Vic huffed as he pulled on his trousers and looked at Anders. “You’re not that much older than I am, I really doubt we’re so spry as to outlive you by decades. Don’t exaggerate about that.”

“You’re not a Grey Warden,” replied Anders tersely as he finally spied his shirt and trousers and began to tug them on. “Live fast, die young, leave a gruesomely beautiful corpse - or none at all if you’re lucky. That ought to be their motto really, except then no-one would ever sign up of course. Not that it was exactly much of a choice in my case, but it was that or the noose and I’m not too keen on swinging.”

“Wait what?” Vic said in confusion. “What do you mean die young? You’re here, not fighting Darkspawn, you should be...should have a normal life, mostly?” 

Anders raised his head, a bleak look in his eyes. “Some parts of being a Grey Warden you don’t get to leave behind,” he said quietly. “The taint in my blood, for example. It’ll be the death of me eventually. We-” He broke off and dropped his gaze. “Warden secrets. I... I shouldn’t even have told you that much. I....”

“So it will claim in you no matter what?” Fenris said as he stood in front of Anders. “How long do we have you then? Ten, twenty years? Less?” the elf didn’t like the hitch in his voice but he couldn’t help it.

Anders lifted his head. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “They told us thirty years from the day of our Joining, maybe a little more - it’s... not a precise thing.” He counted on his fingers. “Maybe... ten, fifteen years if I’m unlucky. Twenty perhaps, if the Maker is merciful.” He glanced up again. “It’s not the Blight that will kill me. It’s the Calling. The darkspawn hear the voices of the Old Gods, and eventually I will too. When that day comes, a Grey Warden goes into the Deep Roads, to kill as many darkspawn as they can and hopefully die in the attempt before they can become one of the darkspawn themselves.” He gave a ghastly grin. “I’ve never yet faced a former Warden down there so I guess they must succeed in the dying part.”

“I see.” was all Fenris said before he embraced Anders and sighed into his dark blond hair. “Then we must make the most of our time together, for it is shorter than I would have expected.” 

Anders dropped his head onto the elf’s shoulder and let himself be held. “I’ve always known my time would be short,” he said softly, “And the end rather... horrible. I’ve always tried to live for the moment until Justice. Now....” He shrugged. “We have a few years yet to us. I’d... rather not think about what will come at the end. Please.”

“Of course.” Fenris replied softly before he pulled back and headed for the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen.” he said before he nearly fled the room.

“I hate when he does that.” Vic muttered. 

Anders sighed and threw his head back, eyes closed, waiting for the tight feeling in his chest and throat to ease. It would figure he would finally fall in love with so few years left to him. He squeezed his eyes shut, determined not to let tears fall.

Vic caressed his face and sighed. “Come on, we can’t sit here moping; it’s not as if it will change the truth of it. Let us enjoy breaking fast together then we can seek out Merrill again.” the Champion frowned briefly but let it go.

Anders let his head drop and nodded with a weary sigh. “Did you say you had a way to reach this.... what did you call him, Endrin?” he asked as he rubbed his face with one hand. “Isn’t that one of your names, anyhow?”

“Yes, my middle name.” Vic said just as wearily. “If I go to the Black Emporium I can call for him. I could do it here but it’s more of a toll on him that way. We should leave Fenris here if we go.” the mage said quietly.

Anders nodded. “I think maybe we should do that before seeking Merrill,” he said quietly. “I have a very bad feeling about what may be happening in Arden’s Kirkwall. I don’t know why I’m dreaming of what is happening to the other Anders, but if what I dreamed was true then... maybe he can help us, tell us what’s going on.”

“He’s going to hate being left here, but I’d rather not put him through that again.” Vic said as they entered the kitchen.

“Put me through what again?” Fenris asked as he poured himself some tea.

“Going to the Black Emporium,” said Anders as he got a cup out of the cupboard and poured himself a mug of tea and sat at the table. “I understand you would probably rather be left out of such a trip?”

Fenris looked away and nodded as he busied himself with breakfast instead. He refused to speak of that again.

“I want to ask more about this Endrin, but perhaps it can wait till we’re on our way?” said Anders, glancing at Fenris.

“I can work with Bodahn to setting the study to rights while you are away.” Fenris said before he tackled his meal.

“Sure, makes sense. I just hope he’s reachable.” Vic said as he glanced at his elven lover, worried about his sudden silence.

Anders dropped his eyes to his plate and began to wolf down his food. Whatever else may have happened, his Grey Warden appetite remained as undiminished as ever. It was such a welcome change from all the years of too little to eat to be able to eat until sated. His shirt was beginning to feel a little tight across his shoulders, and he wondered if perhaps he was beginning to put weight on again. 

Vic didn’t say a word about how much Anders was putting away. He was more concerned with Fenris withdrawing after their chat earlier. 

The elf finished his meal and rose to find their manservant, his mind was ill at ease and perhaps finding something to do would hopefully still it.Their absence would give him a chance to look over some papers he’d kept after Danarius’ death. 

As Anders finished, he glanced over to Invictus. “We should go sooner rather than later,” he suggested. “I have this...” He gestured, searching for the right words. “...drive, this urge, to be doing something. I don’t know what’s happened to my counterpart, and I.... I need to know,” he said, his eyes troubled. “I’m afraid of what I might dream of next.”

“Be careful, if you need me to join you at the wit---, er Merrill’s home, send a runner for me.” Fenris said before he left in search of Bodahn.

“Love…” Vic started but didn’t finish as the elf slipped away again. “Something is bothering him about the conversation this morning and he’s shutting me...um, us out. Dammit.” Invictus said tiredly. 

Anders deliberately bit his tongue, holding back on the urge to point out to Invictus that now he knew how it felt to be shut out. Instead he poured them both another mug of tea each and held his silence.

“Say it, whatever is on your mind say it. Remember you can’t bluff for shit Anders.” Vic said as he grabbed his mug.

Anders shook his head. “No. It was uncharitable of me to even think it,” he replied.

“No secrets, not anymore. I’m a big boy, I can take it.” Vic said solemnly. 

Anders dropped his gaze to the table, unable to meet Invictus’ eyes. “Now you know how it felt when you shut us out,” he said quietly. He shrugged apologetically as he added, “You _did_ ask.”

“Fair enough and true.” Vic shrugged and sipped his tea.

Anders blinked; the other mage seemed to have taken it remarkably well. He fiddled restlessly with his cup then took a hasty mouthful, wincing as the hot tea scalded his tongue. “We, we should go soon,” he urged again. “I’m sorry if I’m pushing too much on this but....”

“It’s fine, let me put on my armor since we don’t know what we’ll find out there.” Invictus took his tea and nodded for Anders to follow. “I’ll stop and say goodbye to Fenris on the way out.” 

“We both will,” said Anders as he rose, trying to remember where exactly his staff had gotten to.

“Does it still bother you if I wear my Champion attire?” Vic asked as he put his tea down and headed for the armor stand.

Anders set his own tea down as he picked up his rather shabby and battered feathered coat. “Not quite so much now I know you’re not about to come bashing down my door and dragging me bodily off to the Gallows any time soon,” replied Anders. “Unless it’s for a game of-” He bit his tongue again. “My tongue’s going to get me in trouble, I just know it,” he muttered.

“You seem to be gagging for it today at least.” Vic said with a smirk as he started to put on his armor bit by bit, a tired groan escaped him as he pulled on the last of it and buckled it in place. “It’s a pain in the ass to wear, a sadist designed it I swear.” He muttered as he strapped his staff to his back and turned to Anders. “Ready?”

“Years of famine and then a feast,” shrugged Anders. He leaned closer to Invictus and began whispering to him about what he could do to the blond apostate with a length of rope, his breath warm against Invictus’ ear. He grinned as he pulled away. “You have no idea what it’s like to have Justice clamping down on my every urge and desire and then suddenly have that gone,” he mused as he spotted his staff and twirled it experimentally before slinging it on his back.

Invictus was frozen in place as he played out the other mages words in his head. “We’re supposed to just go out after you tell me such things? You are evil Anders.” Vic said with a definite strain to his voice.

“Then maybe you should show me what you do to naughty apostates who put such thoughts in your head after we get back,” Anders mused, deliberately straight-faced. “I’m sure you have rope around here somewhere.”

“I…” Vic stammered, unsure what had gotten into Anders or why he couldn’t move from his spot. “Is this what you were like before you...you know?” he rasped. 

“Worse, actually. Come on, you wanted to speak to Fenris,” Anders reminded him, putting a deliberate sway in his step as he left the room.

“I have to wonder if a desire demon hasn’t gotten it’s claws in you.” Invictus said as he watched Anders swagger out of the room ahead of him and towards the study. 

That fetched Anders up short. He halted, then glanced back to Invictus, an uncertain look on his face. 

“I was joking, perhaps in poor taste but this is a new side of you, it’s just caught me off guard is all.” Vic said before he took Anders hand and laid it over his crotch. “See what you did?”

“But don’t you see?” said Anders quietly. “Without Justice, I have no defence if that did happen - it already did once. How would I know? There’s been so much demonic influence around here lately, I could be under one’s influence and I might never know.”

“I doubt it, not after last night. I was just kidding Anders, it was poorly timed but I was kidding. Do you want me to try and blast you with a spirit bolt to be sure?” Vic said.

Anders swallowed hard but nodded. “Please. I just need to be sure what’s in my head is just me - particularly after that dream.” 

“Very well.” Vic stepped back and flung a bolt of energy at the other mage and waited. 

Anders cried out as the energy struck him in the midriff and doubled over, dropping to his hands and knees. He panted hard, rubbing his abdomen with a wince. “Well, that answered that,” he said with a tone of relief. 

The door to the study opened with a bang and Fenris came out with a look of worry. “If you tell me another demon has been found I’m going to scream.”

Anders lifted his head with a grimace and glanced at the elf. “I think we just established that no, no demons here,” he panted. He reached a hand toward Invictus. “A hand up please?”

Vic helped him to stand up straight and made sure he wasn’t injured. “Sorry, I tried to be gentle.” 

“I must be a masochist or something,” Anders muttered. “Better a little sore than possessed however.”

“I thought you two had already left, are you sure you should go out?” Fenris said as he looked between them. 

Anders nodded. “We were just leaving,” he replied. “I was just a little worried in case my dreams earlier perhaps had drawn something to me that maybe had tagged along for the ride. I... can’t always trust my reactions fully just yet. I’m still trying to adjust to there being only me in my head again.” He glanced at Invictus. “Do you want me to... go on ahead?” he asked, unsure if the other mage wished to speak to the elf alone.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll be along in a few minutes.” Vic gave him a slight smiled then pulled Fenris back into the study. Anders nodded and strode away swiftly toward the foyer to await them outside.

 

“What’s going on Vic? I don’t like this.” Fenris said as he kept his back to the desk so the papers he’d been looking over were hidden.

“Love, there’s nothing going on I just wanted to see if you were alright. You’ve ...you’re running off a lot when feelings come up and it worries me. You wouldn’t let me run from my problems and I can do no less for you. What’s bothering you?” Vic had tilted his face up so they were looking at each other. 

Fenris frowned then glanced away. “I have a lot to think on, Invictus,” he said quietly. “I had not realised that becoming a Grey Warden is effectively a death sentence, albeit a postponed one. It... disquiets me to think we may have only a few years with Anders. And now you speak of going to the Black Emporium to speak with this dead Hawke again....” He lifted his head to stare back at Invictus.

“I can accept that perhaps this is necessary, beloved. It does not mean I have to like it. But I prefer not to inflict my dark mood upon you both. Is that wrong of me, love?”

“No, it’s not...I just, I nearly broke our bond with my deceit. So I am ever more cautious of things that seem out of the ordinary. We had such a nice night last night, I’d rather have more of that and not start our day on the wrong foot. I love you Fenris.” Vic leaned in and kissed his elven lover softly. 

Fenris considered showing the papers to Invictus but decided against it for now. “And I you, beloved. Please, be careful at the Black Emporium. And look after our healer; he appears to have a poor sense of self-preservation at present.” He rolled his eyes good-naturedly before returning Invictus’ kiss.

“I will love, enjoy your time free of meddling mages.” Vic said with a smile. He gave Fenris another kiss on the cheek and left for the day.

**

Hal stared at Fenris, his arms wrapped around himself as he trembled. The amber eyes, far from dull and lifeless, were wide and frightened beneath the brand upon the pale forehead. Stripped of the blank mask Tranquility had imposed upon it, it was more clear now just how young Hal truly was.

Fenris shook his head. “ _Venhedis_ , how is this possible?” he whispered. He sheathed his blade then crossed swiftly to grasp Hal’s shoulders, staring into the frightened man’s face. He reached up a hand to touch the brand and Hal actually flinched away. 

“What have you done?” breathed the elf.

The red-head pressed his hands to his face. “I can’t think straight,” he murmured. “So many emotions. It’s overwhelming me.”

Fenris grasped the youth’s slender wrist and turned away, yanking him after him perhaps a little rougher than he meant to as he strode rapidly aft toward the cabins again, dragging the other man behind him.

He pulled him into the galley and shoved Hal down onto the bench then leaned over him, one hand braced on the slender man’s shoulder so Hal was forced to sit back and stare up at him.

“Explain,” said the elf tersely. “Am I speaking to Hal or someone - something else? Who and what are you?”

Hal gulped and stared up at Fenris. “I am Hal,” he said. “But I am also... Endrin.”

Fenris recoiled. “Endrin Hawke is dead,” he hissed. “I know this much at least.”

“He - I - was,” agreed Hal. “This is....” He put a hand to his forehead then snatched it away as his fingers brushed the brand. He clenched his hand into a fist as he visibly fought to calm himself. Fenris stood back and gave him space to compose himself.

“Endrin came to me through the mirror. He has come to me repeatedly, ever since Anders and I first discussed how it might be possible to undo the Rite of Tranquility.”

“Undo...!” breathed Fenris. Hal nodded.

“Endrin had heard Anders from beyond the Veil and walked in his dreams without Anders knowing. He knew what Anders was too afraid to say aloud, what both Chantries had independently come to theorise - that if you could somehow bond a spirit of the Fade with one of the Tranquil, the spirit would bridge that gap where the Fade had been severed and restore the connection. Every time that Justice rose in Anders, it briefly bridged that gap for me and I awoke again - each time for a little longer, just enough to... change me. The brand still held, but it was... weakening.”

“And this spirit - this dead Hawke, Endrin - it was him you saw in the mirror? He came to you?” said Fenris slowly. It was all beginning to fit and make sense.

Hal nodded. “He knew what was happening to Anders, but he couldn’t help directly. He was not of our world. But he was near when I said that I wished I were not Tranquil. He came to me in the mirror before I slept and offered to join with me. And for the first time since the Rite, I _dreamed_.”

“And you accepted?” said Fenris softly.

Hal nodded. “I had no idea how overwhelming it would feel - his memories and mine joined, all emotion opened up to me once more. It was terrifying. I can _feel_ once more, but I have been without feeling so long that it is like waves of the sea crashing over me, threatening to drown me. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, or both at once, and I feel such fear - I had forgotten how paralysing it feels, how very raw and physical! Endrin had forgotten what it was to feel mortal emotions, and I had been severed from them but now I feel - and everything that has happened to me since the Rite, I remember but it’s like I’m feeling them all anew but with colour whereas before all was grey.”

“It must be utterly terrifying,” said Fenris gently.

“You have no idea!” cried out Hal as he buried his face in his hands and wept. “I don’t know what I am anymore. I am Hal, I am Endrin, I am... lost. Lost.”

Fenris went to the weeping man and wrapped his arms around him awkwardly. “No, you are... reborn,” he said quietly. “Birth is never easy. It is always a thing of pain and blood, but also hope and promise. It came for me when I finally escaped Danarius for good. It is only just beginning for you now. But you are not alone. You are among friends here.”

Hal clung to Fenris as he sobbed, and gradually the shudders racking his body slowed and then calmed. He slowly sat up, breath hitching in his chest with the occasional hiccup but otherwise much calmer. Fenris regarded him thoughtfully for a moment then turned and stoked up the small galley fire enough to boil a kettle and brew tea for them both.

Hal accepted his mug with a nod of thanks, sipping it slowly as his breathing calmed. Fenris sat down nearby and watched him as he drained his own mug steadily. When he was done, he set his mug aside.

“So, what now?” he asked quietly.

Hal lowered his mug. “I am not sure. There would be no place for me in Endrin’s Kirkwall, even if I were able to travel there; Endrin died three years ago, his estate gone to his brother Carver and his uncle Gamlen who, I believe, has a daughter only recently discovered - she and I would be of a similar age I think, which would make any attempt to pass as Endrin doomed to failure. I could not reclaim it, even if I had a mind to - which I do not. I am Hal, not Endrin Hawke himself, after all, and our facial resemblance is only superficial, even setting aside the difference in ages.” He took another sip. “My own father is dead. I am not sure why I was named specifically to Arden; maybe I was simply known as being one of the more recently-made of the Tranquil, with no family to claim me and no importance. The templars will not think to look for me as an escaped apostate - if, indeed, they think to look for me at all.” He pondered for a moment. “It is strange; as Hal, I was raised within the Circle, and yet from Endrin I have the memories of what it was to live as an apostate - and as an older man, with years of experience, of living. I would not now willingly submit myself to the Circle again whereas before the Rite, I would have been too terrified to take freedom if it were offered to me. I was little more than a child then, but now I feel... older.”

“You now understand what freedom is,” said Fenris, nodding.

“Yes,” agreed Hal. “I also have yet to understand the full range of my capabilities.”

“How so?” asked Fenris, frowning slightly.

“Before the Rite, I was a spirit healer - much as Anders is. I only ever devoted myself to mastering the healing arts. But now, I sense that there are paths of magic opened to me that I had not even dreamed of wielding. Like Anders, I think I’ve some gifts which derive from the spirit within me - but Endrin is no Fade spirit as Justice is, and I don’t yet know how this joining has changed me.”

“Do you think Endrin might possess you, as Justice does Anders sometimes?” asked Fenris warily.

Hal shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Justice was never human and does not understand fully the human mind. Endrin was. I don’t know how that makes things different.”

Fenris noticed Hal’s speech slowly changing, becoming less stilted and formal; he seemed somehow more mature also - his face still held the smootness of youth, and yet there was something about his eyes that suggested he was older now. It was harder to stare at Hal and believe he were but a youth of seventeen. Fenris frowned, unsure how much was due to no longer being Tranquil, how much might be Endrin’s influence; the seeming aging was the other Hawke, he was certain. He decided to say nothing, merely keeping an eye on Hal for the time being.

Hal drained the last of his tea then set the mug down. “I’m tired,” he said quietly. “Dealing with this flood of emotions has been... draining.”

“You should sleep,” Fenris said. “Come on, let’s get you to a bunk. You realise you’ll dream now?”

“Yes,” said Hal with a genuine smile that lit up his face. “I’m looking forward to it.”

**

Fenris let the door shut behind Invictus and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d held while his lover remained with him. He turned to the documents on the desk and picked them up, scrutinized them as Bodahn came and went on the other side of the study, unseen and unheard by the elf.

Fenris pored over the parchments, the ones bearing Danarius’ seal that was a...bill of sale of him, his sister and his mother. He recognized his name, his true one and the one that had to have been his mother’s name. Varania’s made his lip curl in derision, remembered anguish over her betrayal.

He set it aside and pored over the certificate written in the older dialect favored by Magisters and old Houses that kept to the ways of the Magisterium. It was written in such an old dialect, he couldn’t decipher it, so it was folded and set aside in frustration.

The last thing he tried to go over was a slim ledger, one that seemed to be an accounting of the trip to find him in Kirkwall, and all that he’d done to find Fenris once more. Seeing the sums of gold, silver, weapons and … slaves traded for the sake of his return make him see red all over again. It wasn’t fair, not to him, to those that died simply for following orders, or those he’d cared for in the jungles of Seheron. The amount spent could have funded Hawke’s expedition a thousand times over, yet it was given freely just to get him back. 

Fenris closed it before he gave in to the rage that was building in him over his past. Danarius was dead and gone, Varania had been spared by some small moment of weakness on his part and all he had left were ledgers, receipts and a certification of something. The fact he could not make it out even after learning to read got under Fenris’ skin. This slight hope to learn of his past was shrouded in confusion and it put him on edge.

Finally he put it away in a desk drawer that was for his things only and left the room, eager to get some daylight between him and a past that he couldn’t move on from, nor let go. He left Bodahn to his work and went for a bath in the hopes it would ease his mood.

**

Anders leaned against the wall just outside the front door, enjoying the warm morning sun. He held his staff and fiddled a little with the binding on the haft, fussing with a stray loose thread as he waited for Invictus. He squinted up at the sun then rested his head against the warm stone of the house, closing his eyes and just relaxing as the warmth baked into his slender frame, trying not to think too hard about his disturbing awakening earlier.

Invictus came out of the house with a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He knew something was up with Fenris but he knew trying to get the elf to talk before he was ready was like getting blood from a stone. So he looked to his fellow apostate and nodded towards the stairs.

Anders opened his eyes as Invictus emerged, then pushed himself away from the wall and fell into step just behind the other mage. 

“I gather you’ve spoken to this other Hawke in the Black Emporium before then,” he said quietly. “And I guess that it... unnerved Fenris in some way?”

“Yes, it reminded him of his past. You could ask him, but I don’t know if he’ll speak of it. He was...still acting oddly before I left.” Vic said quietly.

“I gather Danarius forced him to deal with a lot of things that would haunt most mage’s darkest nightmares as pure entertainment,” said Anders carefully.

“Yes, it was not easy to see him brought so low by his past. He’s so strong Anders, and when he’s hurting it’s heartbreaking.” Vic said as they walked.

“It’s hard to imagine anything actually scaring Fenris, he seems... like cold hard steel. The thought of anything breaking his composure in that way is... rather terrifying in a way,” reflected Anders soberly. “Considering some of the things I’ve seen in the Deep Roads, there were many times I could have done with someone like Fenris at my back. I’m not sure I want to face anything that would actually terrify him. But I suppose we all have our limits.” He snorted a little in self-deprecation. “He’d probably laugh to see what a small space does to me.”

“I doubt that.” Vic replied just as carefully as Anders had spoken. “Spend time speaking with him, if he opens up and tells you of his past, you’ll see you are not so different.” 

“So I’m beginning to realise for myself,” mused Anders thoughtfully. He glanced around. “I’ve only been to the Black Emporium a couple of times.” He looked up at the buildings nearby. “Are we... near? I’m not certain of the way.” He shifted his grip on his staff.

“It can shift depending on Xenon’s mood but this alley should get us to the door.” Vic said as he turned and walked quickly a smile on his face as he found the door. The Champion entered and waved at Xenon as he went straight for the Eluvian in the corner. He pulled the draping off and touched the mirror.

“Endrin?”

The mirror went dark, and then a moment later the figure of a man appeared, swimming into view as though seen through the vast depths of the ocean. He had long blood-red hair which was caught into a braid over one shoulder, and unlike the grey robe he wore before, he wore faded grey pants and a white shirt. His eyes were closed, and upon his forehead stood the brand of the Tranquil.

“What in the Void? Endrin what happened to you?” Vic exclaimed as he stepped back and almost knocked Anders down.

“I thought you said he was the ghost of another Hawke?” said Anders, his voice rising up into a squeak. “The dead can’t be subjected to the Rite!” His hands gripped tightly on Invictus’ shoulder.

The figure’s eyes opened to reveal confused amber eyes. “What... am I dreaming?” The figure put a hand to his forehead and then the eyes widened in recognition. “You... you’re Invictus,” he said. His eyes shifted to Anders. “Wait... another Anders? Ah, yes, of course. There would be two of you.”

“How...how do you know who I am?” Vic stuttered.

“Endrin remembers you,” said the figure.

“Wait - I thought _you_ were supposed to be Endrin Hawke?” exclaimed Anders. “Who are you then?”

“If you’re not him, who are you?” Vic echoed before his knees buckled and he started to slide towards the floor. Anders caught him.

“Don’t you dare faint on me, Invictus Hawke,” muttered Anders in his ear. “This is rather more weirdness than I’m used to even in your company, and I’d rather not have to deal with it by myself. Andraste’s knickers, I’m glad we left Fenris out of this!”

“This is... awkward,” said the figure, twisting the end of his braid between his fingers. “I’m... I _was_ Endrin. Sort of. My name is Hal. I’m - or rather, I was - a Tranquil mage that Arden rescued. It seems that we’ve... found a cure for the Rite. I joined with Endrin.”

“As I did with Justice?” breathed Anders. Hal nodded.

“In fact, it was you - or rather, your counterpart here in Arden’s Kirkwall - who gave Endrin the idea.” Hal gave Anders a small smile.

“Then... if a spirit joins with one of the Tranquil... Endrin bridges the severed gap between you and the Fade?” Anders guessed. When Hal nodded, Anders clapped a hand to his head. “But that means, we have a cure for the Rite! We can reverse it!” His eyes lit up and then he stood stock still as the colour drained from his face. “Karl. He didn’t have to die. I could have....”

Vic stood up and turned to Anders. “Don’t, don’t get stuck in what-if’s. Not right now, freak out later.” He turned back to the mirror. “What happened to Anders there? Was he...branded?” 

“No, he wasn’t - but it was close.” Hal drifted closer to the mirror. “Anders, listen to me. Both Chantries - the Imperial and the White - in this world, they had both been theorising along exactly the same lines. Both Meredith in Kirkwall and the Imperial Chantry somehow learned about you and Justice. They captured Anders; they reasoned that if a mage were joined with a spirit that would break the Rite - but to test it they were going to perform the Rite on you. In theory it would have no effect on you but thankfully Fenris rescued you in time. I don’t know if the Chantries in your Thedas have reached the same conclusion yet but you must be on your guard. They may seek to come after you here.”

“But I’m not bound to Justice any more!” gasped Anders. “If they performed the Rite on me now, it would work - I’d be Tranquil as you were!”

“They will not have him.” Vic snarled as he looked to this other mage. “Can you tell Arden we will be on the lookout, and for him to beware of demons. It seems I’m rather their favorite now.”

Hal nodded, then glanced to one side, wincing. “I think I am starting to wake up,” he said as his image flickered and began to fade. “Your counterpart is having some rather unpleasant nightmares, Anders; I can hear him screaming. I must go to him.” He turned and stared at the two mages. “Listen quickly! There’s a storm coming - a big one, in the Fade. I can see and feel it. Something has stirred it up. It’s trying to break through. It wants a Hawke, but it doesn’t care which one. It couldn’t take Endrin, but it could still try for you or Arden, Invictus. It mustn’t break through! It would be-” He broke off and glanced to his side again. “Maker, no - _I’m coming!_ ” His image flickered again, and then the mirror went dark.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ...fuck!” Invictus shouted as the mirror went dark. “We need to get Merrill and get home. I don’t like the idea that Fenris is alone or that something is after me, or Arden...or you could get snapped up for some sick experiments.” 

“Language, Champion. I run a family establishment here.” wheezed Xenon. 

“Well, whatever I was expecting when you led us here, it certainly wasn’t any of that,” said Anders quietly.

Vic flipped Xenon a rude gesture as he passed by the antiquarian’s seat. “Family, establishment my arse. I don’t want to the meet the family that would shop here.” he muttered as he strode out to the street and turned towards the Alienage.

Anders pressed his hands palms together and shot Xenon an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, he’s a little... tense right now!” he called as he backed away quickly toward the door, following Invictus. “Bad news, you know how it is. Love the decor and what you’ve done with the place!” he turned and sprinted after Invictus hastily.

Vic didn’t slow down until he’d reached Merrill’s door and was about to bang on it to get her out but a pale, freckled hand over his stopped him. “What?”

Anders panted as he stared at Invictus. “Take a deep breath and wait a minute,” said Anders. “You should see your face right now. Merrill won’t want to help us if you approach her as though you’re about to drag her off to Maker knows where. Just - just calm down a minute. Please.”

“Fine, you knock.” Vic glanced away from Anders, his gaze hard and his mouth a thin line as he looked past the blond mage’s shoulder, his mind swirling with what they’d been told. 

“Invictus, believe me, I didn’t like a word we heard any more than you did. How do you think I feel, knowing that not one but two Chantries might be after me right now? Remember, I saw what they did to the other Anders. Unlike him, I have a pretty good idea what they’re going to do to me if they get their hands on me. Just... please. We need her.” Anders lifted his hand from Invictus’ to rest it upon his shoulder. “Please. Go sit over by the _vhenendahl_ tree and give me a few minutes with her. It’s my life on the line here as much as yours. Please.”

“As you wish.” Vic said before he went over to the tree and found a spot to wait. He was worried about all of them, and seeing Endrin...no Hal, whoever that was that answered them had his mind moving fast and furious. 

Anders drew a deep breath then turned and raised his hand to knock at the door. He grimaced as he noticed how his hand trembled.

Merrill opened the door and smiled when she saw who it was, but it fell when she saw the look on Anders’ face. “Da’len, what’s wrong?” 

“Merrill... I need your help. There’s something after Hawke and it’s more than I can handle. I think I’m over my head and I need you. I think the Chantries may be after me, and it’s all tied to these demons that keep coming after Hawke and... and I need you, Merrill. I can’t do this on my own.” Anders didn’t have to pretend the note of desperation in his voice.

The elven woman’s gaze hardened at the mention of Hawke. “Why should I give a damn about what happens to Hawke? He didn’t even help me with the Eluvian! He hates me and only comes round when he needs something. He’s not a good man, nor does he care about you no matter what he’s said.” She snapped at the other mage.

Across the courtyard Invictus’ gaze dropped to the ground at her words and he pushed off the wall so he could blend further into the shadows cast by the large tree, his expression wounded by the truth.

“Not for his sake, but mine Merrill. He’s all that’s standing between me and Meredith right now. If I can’t stop these demons, then I’m worse than dead.” He slumped against the door frame and stared at her hopelessly. “I need you, Merrill. Please. You’re my last hope.” He blinked, lifting a hand to rub at one eye.

Merrill stared up at him for a drawn out moment then huffed in annoyance. “For you then, not him. Even when he invited me to his home, he was rude. I’ll be right back.” she disappeared into her home with some choice elven swears that floated back to the doorway as she packed a satchel and got her staff. After getting a book on the Beyond, Demons and other assorted Spirits she returned to her friend. “Alright, I’m ready.”

He reached out and took her small hands in his, bending over to kiss her fingers gently. “Thank you, Merrill. I truly appreciate this.” He gave her a small smile. “I don’t deserve your friendship. You brought me a kitten and now you may very well save my life.”

“Oh hush, you are trying to butter me up. I think that’s the phrase Varric said...oh well. We should get going. I suppose we have to go back to Hawke’s? Hopefully he won’t be such an arse this time.” Merrill said before she saw the tall man coming towards them.

“Anders are you ready?” He said without looking at the Dalish woman, he would not give her the satisfaction of seeing how much her words had hurt him. Behind Merrill, Anders pressed his palms together in the same pleading gesture he’d used toward Xenon, this time directed at Invictus as he glanced meaningfully down at Merrill then up at the other mage, silently begging him to at least try and be polite if only for Anders’ sake. His voice was neutral as he replied.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He dropped his hands and glanced at his feet as Merrill looked back at him.

“Good, I’ll do my best not to be an arse this time around.” He said with a glance to Merrill before he turned and headed home. He was not thrilled with how his day had started nor the direction it was headed. Hopefully her visit would be short and he could be alone for a while after they’d dealt with their problems. 

Behind his back Merrill frowned then looked to Anders with a questioning look at his behavior. This was not the mage she knew, it almost seemed as if he was upset at her words. He’d never cared what anyone said before, what had changed?

Anders inclined his head toward her. “I’ll explain later,” he breathed very softly. He knew Invictus would never hear his words over the noise and bustle of the Alienage, but Merrill had the sharp hearing of the elvhen and he saw her nod very slightly in understanding.

He would have a lot of explaining to do all round, he reflected, once all this was over - assuming he survived the experience.

Invictus moved quickly, his expression hard like people were used to from their Champion so no one bothered the trio as they made their way back to the estate. He entered and headed for his room out of habit, but a cough from Anders caught this attention. “Sorry, habits are hard to break. Can you show her the study and I’ll find Fenris?” 

Anders nodded and gestured courteously to Merrill to follow him. As he entered the study, he glanced round, then headed over to the corner where the demon had manifested.

“It was a despair demon, and it had a bit of a feast on Hawke,” he explained. He winced as he remembered the feel of the demon’s tentacle lashing out at him. “It had tried snacking on me a couple of days ago; I... nearly gave in to it.”

“What happened?” asked Merrill, folding her arms though her eyes were sympathetic.

He explained the strange dream of waking he’d had that had segued into the demon’s attempts on his life and how everything had seemed hopeless; how he’d woken with a knife in his hand, about to slit his own wrist and inadvertently give the demon the very thing it needed to enable it to take a stronger foothold across the Veil. As he spoke, Merrill held out her hand and he surrendered his wrist to her. She studied the tracery of veins just below the surface, rubbing her thumb over his pulse almost soothingly, before glancing up at him.

“Why are demons after Hawke, Anders?” she asked him frankly.

Anders sighed, and dropped into the chair Invictus had occupied the night of the demon’s attack.

“When Hawke first crossed to the other Hawke’s Kirkwall, it seems something decided to tag along with him. There was... a third Hawke, called Endrin. In his Kirkwall, he... he helped you restore the Eluvian.” He held up his hand as her eyes lit up with a triumphant light. “Yes, yes, he gave that version of you the arulin’holm and helped you fix it. He became the victim of the demon that inhabited the mirror and it killed him.”

Merrill’s face fell. “No, but see, it’s not a demon, the Eluvian -” she began, but Anders shook his head wearily.

“Endrin Hawke died to contain the demon within the Fade. And he was trapped there with it, so the demon couldn’t escape - and presumably take you next. But when Hawke travelled from one Kirkwall to the other, he dragged a piece of that demon with it. I suspect the subsequent crossings - Arden Hawke to here, and my foolish coattail-hopping there and back - have just enabled more and more of that demon to gain footholds both here and in Arden Hawke’s Kirkwall. And there’s enough here now that it’s able to call up lesser demons to try and claim Invictus for itself.”

Anders ran a hand slowly through his hair. “Endrin, though trapped in the Fade, was able to talk to Invictus through mirrors and warn him. You saw for yourself what we’ve been facing here. In the meantime Endrin was trying to keep anything further from getting through to Arden, because this demon seeks a Hawke - _any_ Hawke - and it’s not too picky which one it gets. Except Endrin had to take a more direct hand in matters, because the Imperial Chantry captured the other Anders and tried to make him Tranquil. And I got to share his experience in a dream. Both Chantries somehow know about Justice, and they want to... experiment.” He raised his eyes to Merrill. 

“Which is why I need your help. This is all way above my expertise. I don’t have Justice to fall back on any more, and if this demon succeeds in possessing Hawke then nothing stands between me and the two Chantries. If they get hold of me assuming that I’m still carrying Justice, then Tranquility will be the least of my worries. And the Maker only knows what would happen to Kirkwall with Hawke possessed by the demon of the Eluvian.” He stared up at Merrill. “I need your help. I don’t know how to deal with whatever it is we’re facing. I know nothing of Eluvians beyond having been dragged through one twice. This... is your area of expertise.”

Merrill stared at him and drew a long, shaky breath.

Once she caught her breath, she sat in a nearby chair. “Mythal and all the Creators, what has been started by all this? Demons usually don’t care too much for a mortal mage once it’s been ignored. But ...it killed this other Hawke? This Endrin, and, and…” her voice trailed off in a low whisper. “I could have done that here, or the other Merrill. Anders, we have to _do_ something!” she said almost in hysterics. 

Anders felt hysterical laughter of his own trying to bubble up but instead he buried his face in his hands with a groan. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do,” he said quietly. “That demon you helped us with in the cellar - you saw how powerful it was. It nearly killed Fenris through Hawke, and I had to sacrifice some of my own life essence to bring him back. I wouldn’t even begin to know how we would face down whatever this greater demon would do. I suppose we should thank the Maker for small mercies that it’s not an archdemon, but I don’t know what to do. Each attack on us has been stronger, and without Justice I’m vulnerable in a way I haven’t been for years. I’m terrified that one of these things could start influencing me at any minute and I might not realise.” He lifted his head. “I actually had to ask Hawke to hit me with a spirit bolt this morning to reassure myself I’m not being controlled by something.”

“Creators...I...we may need the Keeper. I know of demons and spirits but this may be beyond me Anders.” Merrill said quietly. “What is it about Hawke that’s special? Is it because that one demon killed Endrin in another Kirkwall so now it’s focused on Hawke, any Hawke?” Merrill started to pace around the room and stopped by where they killed the Despair demon. 

“You said it was feasting on Hawke, what happened to put him into such a state? I can’t imagine him falling into such a deep pit over anything.” she said as she paced the length of the area, feeling with her magic as she awaited an answer.

Anders slumped back in the chair. “That... would be my fault,” he said quietly. “Hawke told me something in confidence that I... let slip to Fenris. It caused a rift between them, and he came in here to brood on it. It was all caught up with his own feelings of guilt over the deaths of his father, sister and mother, and I guess made him seem pretty appealing.”

Merrill scoffed derisively at his words. “I doubt he is capable of such feelings.” she muttered unkindly as she continued to search the corner. “Anders...what hurt you, there’s a lot of your blood that’s been spilled here. Did Hawke do something to you?” 

Anders shook his head. “I pulled him out of this chair and pushed him away from the demon. I guess it didn’t like having its feast interrupted; it lashed out at me.” He smiled mirthlessly. “I have a shiny new scar to show for it. Would you like to see?”

“That’s alright,” Merrill said hastily, silently glad Hawke hadn’t hurt him. “So I guess we should ...write all this out and see what other demons there are to attempt to get to him. Perhaps Varric can find out if the Chantry here or the Imperial one could be after you yet. I suppose that means dealing with Invictus and Fenris now?” 

“Merrill... I know Invictus has been rather an ... arse to you in the past. To both of us. But... he’s changed recently. I know you probably don’t believe me, but... I think he truly regrets a lot of the things he’s done since coming to Kirkwall and how he’s treated people in the past.” Anders pushed himself up out of the chair. “He and I have... come to understand each other a little better, thanks to Fenris in no small part. Fenris and I have a lot in common, and I think it took Invictus seeing that to make him realise how wrong he’s been - about me, and about a lot of other things.” He stared down at his feet and wondered how best to explain how things stood between himself and the other two men. “Merrill... do you... trust my judgement? At all?”

“Of course da’len. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” she said quietly. The news Invictus had changed was a lot to take in, and truth be told she didn’t see a difference in how he treated her even if he’d reached an accord with Anders. 

Anders’ eyes were troubled as he glanced up at her, not sure how she might take what he had to say. He opened his mouth, and then sighed. “I think it would be easiest to show you,” he said quietly as he made his way to the door.

“What do you mean?” she asked as she followed behind Anders, unsure what he could be up to.

He walked out onto the landing and glanced round. “Fenris?” he called, not sure where the other two might be.

The door to the master bedroom opened and the elf’s head popped out, his expression darkening as he saw Merrill behind Anders. “Yes?” he asked carefully.

Anders walked over toward the elf, his words slipping into Tevene, knowing Merrill was unfamiliar with the elf’s native tongue. “I need you to do something for me, love,” he said as he paused a few steps away from Fenris. “I need you to kiss me senseless.” As the elf arched an eyebrow at him, he added, “Trust me. I’ll explain later.”

Fenris stuck his head in and let Vic know he’d be back in a few moments before he shut the door and closed the gap between them. He glanced up at Anders and spoke softly before he reached up to kiss Anders. “You’d better have a good reason, I do not like performing on demand, especially for a blood mage.” If Anders had a retort, it was swallowed by how he was claimed in a bruising kiss by the elf until he was released and nudged away. 

Anders had surrendered himself to the elf’s kiss, closing his eyes as he moaned breathlessly whilst Fenris claimed his mouth; when Fenris released him he swayed a little as he fought to catch his breath before slowly opening his eyes. “Thank you love,” he managed breathlessly. “Is... is Invictus in there?”

“Yes, but he’s...not really in the mood for company. He said he needed some time before he joins us. I’ll have Bodahn start dinner, I assume we’ll have four tonight?” he said as he glanced at the shell-shocked expression on the other elf’s face. 

Anders glanced back at Merrill then nodded with a small grin as he turned back to Fenris. “Yes, I think so. Would you tell Invictus I will keep my promise about the rope?”

“Rope?!” Merrill squeaked. “What...Anders, what are you doing with them?” she demanded. 

He glanced back at her with a small smile. “What does it look like I’m doing with them?” he said softly. “I’ve given them my heart.”

“Rope, what do you need…” she stopped and looked between Fenris and Anders, then felt her face flush as it clicked what they could do with rope between two or three men. “Mythal, what is wrong with you? Trusting Invictus to tie you up?” she cried.

“We’re not …” Fenris snapped at her then turned his gaze to Anders. “She’s your friend, you explain it. I’ll be in the kitchen.” he said before he stomped down the stairs in a huff.

Anders turned with an exasperated look as he stared at Merrill. “What?” he cried. “Maybe I _like_ being tied up by a big strapping man in armour sometimes!” He pointed at her, his hand shaking slightly. “You - _you’re_ the one who stole one of my spellbooks to look for - what was it you called them? _Dirty_ spells, wasn’t it?”

“I….but...you wouldn’t tell me about the electricity trick!” Merrill replied, loud enough to draw Invictus from his brooding.

“Maker above and Dumat below, shut up! Get out of the bloody hallway if you want to argue about sex magic. Or anywhere I don’t have to hear you.” Vic snapped before he shut the door and tromped down to the kitchen to look for his elven lover. 

“You weren’t complaining when I used it on _you_ ,” Anders muttered peevishly to the other mage’s departing back. “Though you could use a few lessons in how to do it yourself without electrocuting your lover....” He turned back to Merrill with a sigh. He took in the sight of her face and threw his hands up. “Alright, fine, I’ll teach you the electricity trick too! Happy now?” he asked.

The Dalish mage just nodded, too shocked at what she’d seen and heard to speak. Anders sighed.

“Yes, I’m sleeping with both Invictus and Fenris,” he answered her earlier question. “Frequently both at the same time. Well, I say _sleeping_ \- there’s not a lot of sleeping involved really. And yes, I trust Invictus to tie me up; in fact I was the one who suggested it to him. Because he’s changed, Merrill. I trust him with my life.” His face grew sober. “And if he falls to this demon or worse, my life will be worth spit. To him, or to anyone else. But it won’t matter, because if this demon takes him then I don’t think I’d want to live anyway. But I’d sooner die taking down this demon than at his hands if we fail - or in the hands of the Chantry, either Chantry, should they come for me.” He smiled sadly at Merrill. “And I’m actually rather fond of living, all things considered.”

“I...it’s your life Anders, even if I don’t trust them not to hurt you. If they ever, ever turn on you I will be here for you.” She held up a hand to cut off his argument. “There’s too much between me and Invictus as well as Fenris to accept this easily or at all but if you are happy, I will take your word for it. That is the best I can give you, I’m sorry.” Merrill sighed and looked towards the stairs. “We should go and deal with this before they both tell me to get out.” 

Anders nodded then reached for her hand. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“You’re welcome my friend.” Merrill said as she hugged him suddenly and backed away with a quirk of her lips. “Come on then.”

Anders looked down startled, then hesitantly smiled. “Let’s get this over with,” he agreed.

“After you.” Merrill said as she followed him to the kitchen and slid into a chair across from Fenris and Invictus, neither of whom seemed pleased that she was in their home again. 

The Tevinter elf sipped his tea and stared at her with undisguised malice. “So what is it you are here for? I take it you looked in the study already?”

“Merrill knows far more about the Eluvian and the likely nature of the demon that’s been sending all these lesser demons after Invictus,” said Anders, turning and smiling as the small grey kitten suddenly launched herself from the dresser onto his shoulder. “What we’re up against isn’t an archdemon but is more than your average run-of-the-mill rage or pride demon, and I’m rapidly getting out of my depth. And with Endrin no longer... free to help quite so freely from the Fade, frankly Invictus and I need all the help we can get.”

Fenris’ jaw twitched as he fought the instinct to snap at the other elf. Instead he rested his free hand on Invictus’ thigh and glared at her as he spoke. “Then what is your expert opinion on what’s coming after him?” 

Merrill glanced at Anders, then back at Fenris. “It’s something old; old as Arlathan itself. It has been part of the Eluvian for centuries and can reach across to different worlds. I... may need to consult with the Keeper. It’s not an archdemon, as Anders said; it’s something completely different. There are other powers in the Fade beside the influence of the Old Gods, and what you call demons. Before the humans’ Maker there were the Creators, and the elvhen were not the first of their Children.”

Invictus sat ramrod straight as he listened to her speak. He didn’t have anything to say that would not send the elven woman running out in tears so he merely waited for her to continue.

“While this is a mildly interesting history lesson, let’s get to the relevant parts shall we?” Fenris said as he watched Merrill like she would disappear if he blinked.

Merrill stared at him, her eyes as intense as his own, their gaze just as hard. “I have my suspicions, but I must make sure. If I am correct... then we will need to go to Keeper Marethari.” Her gaze flicked to Invictus, seemingly dismissing Fenris as though he were no longer important. “She still holds the arulin’holm. We will need it. Not to repair the Eluvian - but to destroy it utterly.”

“Then ask her for it.” was all Invictus said, his gaze hard as steel as he gazed back at her. 

Fenris’ hand twitched against Invictus’ thigh and he glanced at Anders before his brows drew down in a scowl. “I believe I was the one speaking to you, not Invictus.”

Anders bit his lip, keeping silent even as he mentally begged Invictus to stop being so rigid and unbending. If even half of what Merrill was saying was true, this was beyond him and Invictus. They _needed_ Merrill. Why was Invictus so determined to antagonise her when they needed her so badly?

Merrill flicked her glance back to Fenris, one eyebrow raised slightly. “It’s not you they want,” she said. “It’s Hawke. It took another Hawke to imprison this spirit in the Fade to begin with; it will take another Hawke to destroy it.” She glanced back at Invictus. “Which is why you must ask for the arulin’holm.” She shrugged. “Of course, if you don’t want my help then I can just go back to the Alienage and you big, strong men can handle it all by yourselves, can’t you?” She stood up, her gaze brittle. “Of course, when Hawke goes on his rampage as the worst threat to the whole of Thedas since the magisters tried to destroy Arlathan, I’m sure you’ll be able to protect Anders from the Chantry, won’t you, Fenris?” She locked glances with the other elf and gave him a small, vicious smile as Anders gave a small, despairing whimper.

Fenris jumped up and slammed his palms to the table. “Don’t you dare try and guilt us into helping you witch. Your counterparts’ actions already cost one Hawke his life, and you are just itching to add another to the tally. We both swallowed our pride and asked for your help, and we know full well you aren’t here for us but for Anders. If not for you him you would gladly see Hawke come to a bad end and be glad for it.”

The elf’s brands lit as he continued to speak, his own voice brittle with restrained emotion. “You said you would help, yet you have decided to make us pay for every slight ever along the way. I will bend Merrill, I will do a lot for those I care for but you will not make us out to be the monsters. Either help us or not, but you will not come into our home and treat us like this.” Fenris’ voice cracked and he would have gone on if not for Vic’s hand on his arm.

“Love, please...let me.” Vic said softly as he turned to face her. “I am willing to do what needs to be done, but don’t ...don’t make this worse than it has to be. You snubbed Fenris in front of him, what do you expect Merrill? I know you hate me and I can live with it, but right now I’m more concerned with continuing to live.” Invictus finished quietly. He nudged Fenris to check on Anders since he looked stricken and pale. 

Anders had hunched in on himself as the shouting started, flinching at the raised voices, but as the import of Merrill’s words had sunk in the colour had drained from his face. He was rocking slightly in his chair, staring at the table as he muttered something to himself; as Fenris leaned a little closer, he heard a breathless whisper of “ _stopitstopitstopit-_ ” as Anders desperately tried to restrain the urge to curl up in a ball or run away entirely.

“Anders, it’s ok.” Fenris said softly in his ear, come on let’s go upstairs and rest. Perhaps we can discuss this tomorrow when everyone is calm?” the elf asked. 

“No, it’s _not_ OK, don’t you see?” said Anders hoarsely, staring at the elf and then at Invictus. “Do none of you see? You’re so all set on fighting against each other and standing on your dignities, but you don’t _see_! Didn’t you hear a word she said? Something as old as Arlathan that could destroy all Thedas, and you’re arguing about _how nicely she tells you what we need to do about it?_ ” His eyes were wide and incredulous. “We’re all going to die.”

Invictus pinched the bridge his nose and sat back down. “You’re ...right. What do we need to do right now so we can find this threat and stop it?” Vic said neutrally, his gaze on Anders was troubled even as he conceded the point in his head. 

“Do as she says. Go to Keeper Marethari and do whatever she says,” said Anders. “It’s... it’s all we _can_ do.”

“Fine, we’ll go in the morning. It’s too late to set out today and get there before nightfall.” Vic said tiredly. 

Fenris remained next to Anders and rubbed slow circles across the mages back. “I’m sorry for shouting.” he murmured in Tevene.

Anders dropped his head to the table with a low sigh. “It doesn’t matter. None of this matters now,” he said softly. “I... I can’t think straight any more. I’m... I can’t....” He threaded his hands into his hair and gave a shudder.

Fenris didn’t say anything else, he just helped the mage to his feet and nodded to Invictus as he steered Anders up the stairs, murmuring in Tevene as he went. He knew the signs of an imminent breakdown all too well. 

Invictus was left with Merrill and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to throw her out or let her stay. It was clear they’d upset Anders or worse and he was utter shite at being a comfort to anyone. So instead he sat at the table and let the silence grow between them.

“Well!” said Merrill a little too brightly. “This was all very... um. Awkward.”

“Yes… it is.” Vic replied between sips of his drink. 

Merrill twisted the tips of her fingers together. “I should probably go and pack. We should head off as soon as possible.” She glanced toward the doorway. “Anders....” She sighed. “I didn’t mean that to happen. Not to him. But he’s right.” She stared back at Invictus. “We have to put aside our differences for now, Hawke.”

“I’ll see what I can manage, and if he returns to find you gone, he will blame me for it. I don’t need that headache along with everything else.” Vic returned her gaze with a cool neutrality he didn’t want to give her. “I’ll check on him, hopefully he will feel up to returning to dinner.” 

She nodded, clearly unhappy but unwilling to risk upsetting Anders further.

Vic headed up to their room and shut the door behind him. “Anders, are you alright now? Or do you need to be alone for a while? Merrill is still downstairs.” he said as he walked in to find Fenris carding his fingers through the mage’s dark blond hair slowly, rhythmically as Anders held him close. 

Anders lifted his head slowly, not quite looking directly at Invictus, his amber eyes dark and shadowed. After a moment he shook his head then turned his face towards Fenris’ chest, drawing a shuddering breath. 

“I’m guessing that’s a no. She wanted to go pack for the trip, should I tell her to do that and return in the morning then?” Vic said quietly.

Anders closed his eyes briefly, pressing the heels of his palms against his closed eyes before dropping his hands limply in his lap as he drew a deeper breath. “No, I’m not alright,” he said tonelessly. “I don’t want to be alone though. But yes, Merrill should go pack. I’ll be in no fit state to do anything before morning.” He covered his eyes with one hand, looking exhausted.

“Very well, I’ll let her know. Hopefully she believes me.” Invictus replied before he returned to the kitchen. “He’s not alright, but he did think it was a good idea to get ready for tomorrow. We will leave after first light.” 

Merrill rose and nodded. “I’ll be here,” she said quietly. She turned and left silently, letting herself out, and Invictus was alone in the kitchen once more.

Once the front door shut, Invictus returned to his lovers and sat with them. “She’s gone back home, what do you need Anders?” Vic asked softly.

“I don’t know,” said Anders in that same listless, toneless voice. “This is all so much bigger than I could ever have envisioned even in my worst nightmares. I know how to deal with normal demons and spirits. Even archdemons I know how to deal with - you find the Grey Wardens, you find a Grey Warden who wants to die a big damned hero, let them and the archdemon wipe each other out and keep busy with damage limitation and hope they don’t wipe out too much property whilst they’re doing it. The Grey Wardens have been killing archdemons for centuries, it’s what they were founded for. But this... this is beyond Grey Wardens. It was old before the first Joining ever took place. How do we fight something as old as Arlathan?” He looked up at Invictus, his eyes filled with hopelessness.

“I don’t know yet, but we’ll find a way Anders. If you give in to despair now we’re already on the losing side. Why don’t you two rest and I’ll get us some tea and maybe see when dinner will be ready?” Vic tried for a reassuring smile and probably failed. He looked to Fenris who merely shook his head and mouthed ‘Later’ before he continued to soothe their mage.

“I can’t face the thought of food,” said Anders quietly. “But I’m scared to sleep. Maker knows what I’d dream of.”

“We’ll be with you.” Fenris said quietly. “You can’t make the trip to Sundermount on no sleep.” he reminded Anders. 

Anders sighed in resignation and glanced up at Invictus. “Please put me out,” he whispered. “Maybe with a sleep spell, I won’t dream.”

The taller, darker mage nodded, placed two fingers to Anders forehead and murmured a sleep spell to ease him into slumber. ”I’m sorry.” he whispered.

Anders’ eyes held only a look of gratitude as he looked up at the other mage, and then his eyes rolled back and he fell limp in Fenris’ arms.

The elf laid him out and crawled to the side of Anders, concern and irritation both on his face. “I --”

“Don’t, everything is fucked up and I’ll be laid out right next to him if anything else happens. I’m hungry even if he’s not. I’ll see you downstairs if you wish to join me love.” Vic said sadly.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders' nightmare isn't over with his rescue from the Imperial Chantry. In fact the nightmare is just beginning for all of them as Keeper Marethari explains to Vic and Co just what exactly it is they're all facing - and back in Arden's Kirkwall, an unwelcome guest pays a visit....

Hal’s eyes flew open and he was half out of his bunk with a glance to Fenris between one sleeping breath and the next waking one. The elf glanced up startled as the former Tranquil mage began to cross the cabin.

“Anders,” he said breathlessly, just seconds before the blond apostate began to scream in his sleep once more.

Fenris went over to Anders and lit his brands in an effort to get the mage to calm down, especially before his spirit took over. “Anders….Anders, it’s a dream, it’s a terrible dream. Come back to us.” 

Arden had sat up, startled suddenly into wakefulness as the blond apostate thrashed. “No, no, please don’t, I beg you!” cried Anders as he pushed himself away, fetching up hard against the headboard of the bunk before he flung his arms around his head.

Hal reached out for the panic-stricken mage, holding his hands just shy of the mage’s shoulder before glancing to Fenris.

“Anders, you’re safe, look - it’s Fenris,” said Arden, his voice still thick from sleep.

The apostate hiccuped and lowered his hands slightly. “F-Fenris?” he breathed.

“Yes, it’s me Anders. You’re safe remember?” he said quietly. 

“Safe....” echoed Anders, letting his hands fall, then he shook his head as he drew a shuddering breath. “No. Nowhere is safe. Not any more.”

Fenris pulled him close and kissed his cheek softly. “You’re here with us, you’re safe love.” he whispered before he looked to Arden in desperation. 

“We won’t let the Chantry touch you ever again, Anders,” agreed the Champion as he put his arms around both his loves. “We’re on Isabela’s ship, the Chantry ship was destroyed. They won’t come after you again.”

Hal sat back on his heels and watched them. “It’s not -” he began, but then fell silent as Anders turned and stared at him.

“I saw you,” he said, wondering. “You - just before I woke, I saw you. You said _I’m coming_.”

“What?” Fenris said in confusion. “He was right here, there was no way you saw him.” 

“I _saw_ him,” insisted Anders. “In my dream. I was chained between the templars, but just behind the magister I saw him standing beside a mirror, and he turned and looked at me and said _I’m coming._ I saw him.”

“I don’t-” began Arden then broke off as Hal slowly nodded with a gentle smile.

“I was there,” Hal nodded. “Just before you started screaming.”

“This isn’t possible,” said Arden. “You’re - you’re Tranquil.”

“No,” said Anders, his eyes widening. “He’s not. _What are you??_ ” He recoiled away from the red-headed mage, face white.

“Love, calm yourself. Hal...he, apparently he’s proof of your theory made manifest.” Fenris said as he gently held Anders against his chest. 

“It’s not possible,” he whispered. “It can’t be. I’m still dreaming.”

“Love, if you are, then so am I,” said Arden uneasily. “Because that is Hal, and somehow, he’s not Tranquil any more. I don’t claim to understand it any better than you do, but... it’s true.”

“Come on, let’s get on deck and get you some fresh air, maybe it will help us.” Fenris said in Anders ear. Anders stared silently at Hal then finally nodded, jerkily.

Fenris helped him up the stairs and leaned Anders against the railing. “See, water everywhere and we’re heading home. It’s not a dream, you’re back with us alright?” 

Anders stared at the coastline slowly drifting past to starboard. “That’s the Wounded Coast,” he said slowly.

Behind them, Hal was slowly climbing up the stairs from the cabin. He’d hastily shrugged on Arden’s old grey robe and was slowly unbraiding his hair. Arden glanced back at him.

“You’re going to have to explain what’s going on,” said the Champion.

Hal lifted his hand to cover the brand on his forehead. “Ring any bells?” he asked quietly.

“Endrin Hawke,” breathed Arden. Hal nodded.

“He is a part of me now, as Justice is joined with Anders.” His amber eyes flicked to the blond healer. “You were right. When I joined with his spirit, he bridged the severed link between my mind and the Fade, restoring me to myself.”

Fenris shook his head and backed away slightly. He’d seen a lot of unnatural things in his time, but this was at the head of the list. He was more concerned with how Anders seemed to be taking the news, he could deal with it later.

Anders drew closer to Hal as the red-head let his hand fall. “I’d theorised, but having it confirmed like this is....” He exhaled slowly, then slowly smiled. “We did it. We finally found a way to break the Rite. Too late for Karl, but no mage need ever suffer the way he did, ever again.” He inclined his head slightly to one side. “Though I’d never considered the possibility of the spirit of another mage bonding with one of the Tranquil. How does that work? Do you have his memories as well as his own? Can you feel him inside?”

“Somewhat,” nodded Hal. “It’s like I have two sets of memories - my own, and his. I can sort of feel him, but it’s like the boundaries are... fuzzy. I’m not entirely sure where I end and he begins. I suspect the longer we are joined, the more we will become as one.”

Anders nodded. “I doubt you’ll have the same problems I do with Justice,” he said quietly. “Justice was never human; he never really fully understood human emotions. But Endrin would have no such problems.”

Hal nodded. 

“So... you were a dreamshaper before then?” asked Anders thoughtfully. “One of the - what did Marethari call them? - _somniari_?”

“No,” said Hal. “I suspect that is a unique trait Endrin likely picked up whilst in the Fade.”

“I guess we have a third Hawke, sort of now?” Fenris said from where he’d joined Arden.

Hal shook his head. “Not really. Endrin Hawke died some time ago in his own Kirkwall; he never existed here. I have his memories and skills up here-” He tapped his temple. “But my personality is my own. I’ve not lived as a Hawke. Even if I could somehow travel to his Kirkwall, I bear only a superficial resemblance to him. I couldn’t take over his life.”

“But you still have his memories - of his brother and sister, his father and mother. Carver, Bethany, Malcolm, Leandra - Lothering. You and I have... a shared background in that sense,” said Arden. “It’s like you’re... a brother. Or cousin maybe,” he added with a smile. “I know some of the Amells have hair that colour.”

“Maybe,” said Hal quietly. “I’m still trying to adjust to it all myself. I don’t feel quite so overwhelmed with emotions as I did before, but... it’s all very strange and new still.”

“No, wait,” said Anders. “I think I know what Fenris was getting at.” He glanced at the elf, then back at Hal and Arden. “We know there’s a demon that’s after a Hawke - any Hawke. Before, it was basically after Arden here and, presumably, Invictus in his own Kirkwall. But now there’s a third Hawke. Will it try and come after you too?”

“Well, if it does come after Arden or what it thinks is Endrin, we’ll face it head on. No one is getting you, any of you...again.” Fenris amended as he glanced away guiltily. 

“Endrin fought it before,” said Hal. “He died to trap it in the Fade. Which is how I know it’s... rather more than just a demon,” he finished awkwardly. “It’s... very old.”

“How old?” Fenris asked warily.

“We’re not going to like this, are we?” said Anders slowly. “It’s an archdemon. Isn’t it? You’re going to tell it’s an archdemon. It’s OK, we can handle an archdemon, we’ll just go find the nearest group of Grey Wardens and-”

“It’s not an archdemon,” said Hal quietly. “It is as old as Arlathan. It was one of the Creators’ First Children.”

“So we might need the Dalish to help us then...wonderful.” Fenris muttered. 

“It... gets worse,” said Hal wincing.

“How much worse?” asked Anders heavily, dreading the answer.

Hal gave Arden an apologetic look. “You burned the arulin’holm.”

“Shit.” Fenris and Anders said in unison. 

Arden turned white, then a rather queasy shade of green, and then turned and abruptly threw up noisily over the side of the ship.

“Sorry,” winced Hal.

“Without it we can’t fix that cursed mirror or keep that thing out can we?” Fenris said as he started to look a little green himself. Whether it was the situation or the motion sickness again, he wasn’t sure. 

“I wish I knew for certain,” replied Hal. “Endrin used the arulin’holm to banish the spirit with his last dying breath. I don’t know if the Dalish would have any other tool that might suffice in its place, but we have to try.”

“Then I guess we should be going to Merrill and then off to visit the Dalish,” said Anders. “It’s... jolly weather for a trip to Sundermount, isn’t it?” His smile was forced.

That made Fenris turn and lose his diner over the railing as well. He slumped down with a belch that burned his throat and eyes before he groaned. “Can we just walk from the Wounded Coast?” 

“It would be quite a walk from here back to Kirkwall and then back out again to Sundermount,” said Arden slowly. “I think we’ll need Merrill. But... with Keeper Marethari dead, will we even find them on Sundermount? Would they talk to us, with or without Merrill? We have no idea who their new Keeper might be. And we don’t have enough supplies with us to just blindly strike out here even if we disembarked from the ship,” he added.

“I meant walk home.” Fenris said tiredly from where he’d sprawled on the deck. “Was doing so much better.” he rasped. 

“Oh,” said Arden. He felt foolish.

Isabela called down to them from the aft deck. “It would be quite easy to put you all ashore at the next cove. I probably shouldn’t take this pretty bird straight back to Kirkwall just yet anyway.”

“I hate sailing...hate ships, fish...all of it.” Fenris whined. 

“That’s settled then,” said Anders with a false brightness in his tone. “We’ll go ashore at the next cove and hike back into Kirkwall, gather supplies, then hike right back out again and get ourselves thoroughly lost. Marvelous. Couldn’t have thought of a better plan myself.”

“Anders,” said Arden with a warning tone.

“No, no, it’s brilliant Arden! We’ll march in circles up in the mountains for days and get gloriously lost whilst the Chantries hunt for me high and low and this ancient Arlathan demon hunts for you, Hal and Invictus, and maybe the demon will get there first or maybe the Chantry will or maybe we’ll all run into each other all at the same time and have one big happy party in the middle of no-where - it’s just fantastic!”

“Anders…” Fenris slurred as he tried to stand up but gave up after a hard lurch to the port side. “Anders...you’re babbling, and honestly...you’re scaring me.” he rasped after he landed on his back and stared up at the sky. “Need you to...keep it together.” the elf moaned softly. 

“I’m scaring you?” exclaimed Anders, his eyes a little too wide and bright, his voice a little too hard, the sharp edge of hysteria in every word. “Oh good, because I’d hate to think I was the only sensible one here who’s utterly terrified out of their wits. All I need now is for a few hundred darkspawn to pop up and I think my day would be just perfect thank you very much - I mean really, I just-”

His voice cut off in mid-sentence as Hal stepped silently up behind him and touched two fingers lightly to Anders’ right temple. His eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped, the red-headed mage catching him before the unconscious mage could hit the deck.

“Sorry,” said Hal apologetically. “He was hysterical. I thought putting him asleep would be the kindest thing for him.”

Fenris clapped weakly and laid there with his eyes closed. “Can we keep him Arden?”

“No argument there from me,” replied Arden as he crouched down next to the elf and gently rested a hand over his midriff. “Forgive me love,” he said briefly before channelling a little healing magic into Fenris, just enough to calm his stomach a little. “Can’t take it away entirely but maybe that’ll make it a little more bearable till we can get ashore.”

“Thanks, just leave me here for now. Once we’re still I can get up.” Fenris said quietly. 

Arden nodded quietly.

After a quick chat with Isabela, Arden and Hal carefully laid the sleeping Anders in one of the two boats the ship possessed, then gathered some basic supplies to last them back to Kirkwall. Varric came up on deck with Arden and Anders’ staves, then returned with Fenris’ sword.

“Can’t say I’ll be too heartbroken to see the back of this boat myself, Broody,” confided the dwarf as he watched the two conscious mages stow the supplies in the boat. “Isabela says the next cove will be a good place to go ashore; she can’t come in too close because of the rocks but she’ll bring us as close as she can and we can row ourselves in the rest of the way.”

“Hmmph.” Fenris said as he rolled to his side slowly, then hands and knees before he pulled himself to his feet. “Next time I’ll swim.” he said crossly as he made his way over to Varric. 

“Not sure you’d want to swim round here, Broody; Isabela says the currents hereabouts are pretty treacherous,” remarked Varric with a shrug. “And I’m not sure the mages would fare too well with their robes. Not to mention Blondie being out for the count.”

“Facetious Varric, I was being facetious.” Fenris muttered as he looked down to the boats. 

Anders was stretched out unconscious in the bottom of one boat, his head cushioned by a pack with supplies, his staff by his side. Hal was climbing down into the boat as Arden steadied the ropes suspending it over the side of the ship.

“Guess we’d best get aboard,” remarked Varric as he eyed the rope ladder leading down into the boat dubiously. He slung Bianca over his back then began to inch cautiously down the ladder. “Dwarves don’t belong on boats,” he muttered to himself.

“Neither do elves.” Fenris said before he looked at Arden and climbed down after Varric. 

Arden glanced back at Isabela. “Our thanks, Isabela; we couldn’t have done it without you!” he called.

“Be on your way sweet thing - the wind’s changing and I need to head back out soon. You take care of yourselves and don’t get yourselves killed!” she called back. He waved to her then climbed down into the boat where Hal was sorting out the oars. Arden untied the rope winch then he and Hal began to lower the boat down into the waves. 

Varric took up one of the oars and fended them away from the ship’s side as Hal and Arden lowered them down the final few feet into the water, and then cast off the ropes. The moment they were free of the ship, the boat began to pitch and bob sharply in the waves of the cove.

Fenris clenched his teeth as they made the short trip to shore, he was useful just to keep the small boat on course until they were beached and then he bolted for a sandy spot to throw up what he had had left in his stomach. “No more boats, you hear me.” 

Arden shot him a dark glance as Varric waded ashore carrying Anders and Arden’s staves whilst Hal and Arden struggled with the unconscious Anders between them. Hal went back for the pack with supplies.

The elf staggered over and helped Arden with Anders until they were safely away from the shore and he could put Anders down. Hal dropped down next to the unconscious mage and gently lifted the sleep spell. 

It took a few minutes for the blond apostate to come round. He blinked his eyes dazedly, staring up at them in confusion as they leaned over him.

“Why am I on the ground?” he asked, bewildered.

“Because we’re off the boat, and once you can get up, we are heading home.” Fenris said as he set his scabbard across his back and buckled it. 

Anders sat up slowly with help from Arden; Hal sat a few feet away on a rock, rebraiding his hair. Varric was buffing a few salt marks off Bianca’s gleaming stock with one eye on the sky.

“Weather’s shifting, Hawke; we ought to get moving soon.” He eyed Bianca critically then nodded in satisfaction as he slung her on his back.

Arden straightened up as he helped Anders to stand before shouldering his staff. Hal finished plaiting his hair and threw the braid over his shoulder before he shouldered the pack with supplies.

“Let’s go,” the Champion said and led the way up off the beach.

**

Anders was quiet and withdrawn the next morning. It had been an unsettled night, with the mage starting up half asleep several times during the night, his mind slipping briefly toward nightmares in spite of the sleep spell before he jolted almost awake before slipping back into sleep. It had not been restful for either of his bedmates.

Fenris was quiet as well as he walked between Invictus and Anders, he had a lot on his mind and was in no mood for chatter. He occasionally looked up to be sure he was on the right path but was otherwise quiet.

Invictus answered Merrill’s questions as they walked but he kept glancing back at the two men with them in worry. Fenris being silent wasn’t new, but Anders being so glum set off a lot of red flags in the Champion’s head. 

Merrill, for her part, was aware of the stilted silence behind her and Invictus and tried to be mindful of the group’s sombre mood. But her nature was irrepressible and she couldn’t quite seem to remember to restrain herself each time she thought of something else to ask. Fenris and Anders weren’t talking so it was only natural that her questions should fall to Hawke. If some of his answers were a little terse or distracted, she seemed not to notice - or even notice at all if he failed to reply.

Anders trudged slowly after Invictus and Merrill, the elf’s chatter washing over him unheeded as he stared at the ground.

Invictus was actually glad to see the Dalish camp up ahead, not to be there but at least it would mean that someone besides him would talk, he hoped. “So what is it we need to do to get arloon, aruleen, how do you pronounce it again?” Vic asked. 

“The arulin’holm,” corrected Merrill. “It’s one of the clan’s ancient artefacts. It belongs to the whole clan, and anyone can request its use in need. Keeper Marethari will likely request some service or boon in return for it.”

“Wonderful.” Vic said as he followed her into the camp and over to the Keeper. 

Keeper Marethari turned as they approached. Her face lit up as she saw Merrill. “Da’len! It is good to see you. Have you returned to us, child?”

Merrill glanced at Hawke, then shook her head firmly. “No, Keeper. I come to invoke _vir sulevanan_. I need the arulin’holm.”

“Ah,” replied Marethari sadly. “That is your right, da’len, though I could wish you would ask some other boon of me. May I ask what you require it for?”

Merrill darted another glance at Hawke, then straightened her shoulders. “I need to destroy the Eluvian. It... it carries a grave danger to us all, an ancient and terrible danger since the time of Arlathan.”

Marethari’s face stilled. “You speak of the Forgotten Ones, child,” she said softly.

Anders’ head jerked up. “You know-”

“Of course, child,” said Marethari. She stared at him and then stepped closer, lifting one hand to touch his face. “You have changed, child,” she said, her voice soft and kindly. “The burden you bore before is gone, but I sense a much greater burden is upon your soul.” She glanced around the others.

“Come, all of you, into my aravel. We must talk, and I have much to tell you of what it is you face.”

“Forgotten Ones? That doesn’t sound ominous at all.” Fenris said in a low growl as he fell in step between his lovers. 

The Keeper led them into her aravel and gestured for them to sit. Various brightly-coloured cushions were scattered around the floor, and the Keeper sank down to sit upon one crosslegged as Merrill chose another to her right. 

With a grimace, Anders lowered himself gingerly down to sit awkwardly cross-legged on another, across from the Keeper, sure that his back and long legs would start to scream in pain in a very short while. He glanced at Fenris, who seemed far more comfortable and at ease with such seating arrangements.

Fenris sat with his hands together and his chin resting on them before he noticed Anders grimace. He turned so the human mage could rest against his back since he’d removed his sword before sitting. Anders shifted round to lean slightly against the elf with a muffled groan, his legs already starting to cramp in only that short space of time.

“Bend your legs at the knees and let me support you.” Fenris said before he turned his attention to the Keeper. “Ma’Serranas Keeper.” he said with a slight bow of his head.

She returned it with a gracious nod. “The artefact you seek, the arulin’holm, is an ancient tool that has belonged to the Sabrae clan for generations. It is as old as Arlathan itself. But the evil you seek to destroy is more ancient still. Few even among the Keepers know or remember the Forgotten Ones; most do not even remember they ever existed, far less what their names were. But their names are remembered by Fen’Harel, for it was said that he was not of the Creators or of the Forgotten Ones but both and yet neither. He alone could pass between the two, and he alone it is said was responsible for the Great Betrayal when the Creators were sundered away from Arlathan. Thus it was that when Arlathan fell, the Creators could not answer the cries of their Children.” She glanced at Merrill. “This much you should know, da’len,” she chided gently.

“Keeper,” she said softly, bowing her head.

The Keeper turned back to Fenris. “Merrill had to leave us because she sought to restore the Eluvian. It was tainted; it was responsible for the deaths of several of our people, and we lost one of our own to those you call the Grey Wardens. But it was not simply the contagion of the taint that we feared, but that it would cause the awakening of a great and terrible evil that had not been seen since the fall of Arlathan.”

“One of these Forgotten Ones?” guessed Anders. Marethari nodded slowly.

“The very same. It is not known which one, but we know that when Fen’Harel betrayed the Creators, he also tricked the Forgotten Ones, and they were sealed away. It may be that this Eluvian is one of the tools he used to do so; it is certain that restoring it would allow a great evil back into the world once more.” She stared severely at Merrill. “Now do you see why I could not permit you to remain with us whilst you remained fixed upon such a deadly course, my child?”

“Forgive me, Keeper; all is now clear.” Merrill buried her face in her hands.

“All is not yet lost, child,” said Marethari gently. “You seek to destroy the Eluvian now, and not restore it. The arulin’holm is one of very few tools with which such a feat may be accomplished, but by itself it will not suffice.”

“What else is needed Keeper?” Fenris asked quietly, followed by Invictus’ query about the task they must perform. “Merrill mentioned a task?” 

“Merrill invoked _vir sulevanan_ ,” said Marethari. “At a time of great need, any in the clan may request one of the clan’s ancient artefacts in exchange for a task of the clan’s choosing. There are other things which you will need to accomplish the destruction of the Eluvian, but first in order to claim the arulin’holm I must ask you to perform a boon for the clan. There is a cave a little way to the north of our encampment where a varterral has taken up residence. It has claimed the lives of three of our hunters, and we can spare no others to it. Slay the varterral, and the arulin’holm is yours. When you will return, I shall tell you of what you must do to destroy the Eluvian and prevent the return of the Forgotten One.”

“Slay a varterral? I thought they were creatures of legend?” Fenris said skeptically. 

“This particular legend has slain three of our finest hunters,” replied the Keeper a trifle acerbically. “You seek to thwart the aims of the Gods themselves, child, yet you baulk at mention of a thing you thought a legend? I tell you truly; it exists, and it can kill - and be killed.”

“As you wish Keeper.” Fenris demurred, not eager to fight with his elder about the creature. He shook his head at the peculiar look Invictus gave him. “Get up Anders, we’ve got a legend to slay.” 

Anders mutely held his hand out to Invictus for a hand up, wincing as the larger mage bodily hauled him to his feet. He managed to duck in time before he could crack his head on the low ceiling of the aravel.

Fenris stood and waited until he was outside before he strapped his sword back on. He was not thrilled with the idea of hunting down some creature that wasn’t supposed to exist but it wasn’t the strangest thing he’d done at Hawke’s side. 

Invictus looked on as the Keeper marked the map and slipped back into her aravel, leaving them to go after the creature. 

“So it’s not just some ancient unknown evil we’re up against - it’s a forgotten God of the elves,” muttered Anders. “This all just gets better and better.”

Fenris glanced back at him then sighed. Arguing would solve nothing as they went. He remained quiet as they trudged into the caves, grateful he had good vision in low light as they made their way. 

“The Forgotten Ones were never the Gods of my people,” Merrill remarked as they headed into the cave complex. “They were the enemies of the Creators. They -” She broke off as a figure emerged from the shadows and came toward them. “Pol?” she said incredulously. “Is that you?”

The elven hunter stared at Merrill, his eyes widening in terror. “No! Keep away from me, you monster!” He backed away from her.

“Pol, wait, no, don’t-” she began but he turned and fled back into the caves with a shriek of fear.

“Maker, he was utterly terrified of you!” exclaimed Anders. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing, nothing I swear!” protested Merrill. 

Fenris scowled as he went past her and followed behind Pol’s footsteps. “He went this way come on.” 

The headed deeper into the caves, but Merrill stopped short when a wailing scream drifted back to them that was abruptly cut off. “Pol,” she breathed. “Oh Creators, no....” She began to run.

They rounded a corner and came face to face with a monstrosity straight out of a nightmare. Towering over them was what they could only assume was the varterral. Five-legged, it superficially resembled an enormous spider, its carapace seemingly formed of ancient treebark. Each spindly long leg terminated in a vicious, long claw, one of which was currently embedded in the torso of the poor unfortunate Pol, sprawled very much dead beneath the creature.

“OK. I am officially petrified right now,” remarked Anders in a hushed voice as he unslung his staff. “Not quite at pants wetting level, but on a level from giant spiders to Broodmothers that things is at least at a level of ‘dear Maker fuck no’.”

Fenris growled at Anders to shut it as he unslung his sword and let himself slip into the Fade as he headed straight for the Varterral’s legs. “A little haste would be good!” he shouted as he struck out at the stone solid appendages.

Merrill focused on her earthen magic to keep the creature in place, a paralysis glyph put down before shielding herself in rock armor. “You will pay for taking Pol!” she shouted before raining fire down on them creature.

“Don’t set us on fire!” Vic cried out as he readied a Fist of the Maker. “Fenris...move!” 

“Haste. Yes. I can do that,” muttered Anders as he gestured and suited words to actions. “Cast spells and gibber quietly - see, I can multitask with the best of them!” As the Haste spell took effect he moved round to flank the creature, sweeping his staff in a low semi-circle before him as he gestured gracefully with his free hand and encased two of the creature’s legs in ice before reversing his staff and aiming a bolt of energy at the creature’s centre just as it reared up on the two frozen legs then brought the other three claws down sharply, trying to pin down the annoying lyrium ghost that blurred between its legs. One claw came down far too close to Anders for comfort and he ducked away with a hoarse yell.

Fenris hissed as he felt the burn of magic in the air all around him, his next shout was one of pain as the Varterral smacked into him and sent him sailing to land in a crumpled heap by Invictus. “Fenris!”

“Invictus, we need to kill this thing!” Merrill screamed as she flung spells at it. 

“Fine, everyone out of my way!” Invictus used Tempest on the creature, his rage fueling the spell’s fury until it was twitching on the ground from shock. “Finish it off Merrill!” Vic said before he turned his attention to his elven lover. 

Anders rolled away from the thrashing varterral leg that came dangerously close to his head then came to his feet running, throwing himself down on his knees next to Fenris as he dropped his staff and reached out to the elf, glowing blue healing energy already pooling in his hands to direct into the elf’s injured form.

“Dammit you really need to quit getting hurt like this Fenris.” Vic said as he cradled the elf’s head and stared down at him. 

“Wasn’t ….the plan.” Fenris said hoarsely. 

“Keep still,” said Anders tersely as he concentrated on healing broken bones and torn tendons, oblivious to Merrill’s shrieks and curses as she rained down what sounded like merry hell on the broken varterral. She seemed to have taken Invictus’ order to heart and was set on not merely killing but utterly annihilating the creature that had slain Pol.

Anders slumped back as he finished healing Fenris and blinked at bits of varterral hide falling around them. “Maker, what did she _do_ to that thing?” he wondered, glancing round. 

“Destroyed it, impressive.” Fenris said with a rasp. Everything hurt him and he swore he saw bright lights over his head as he laid there. 

“Stop trying to move,” Anders chided him tiredly. “Just... rest there for a minute.” He shook his head and muttered something about stubborn elves as he glanced round for Merrill.

Fenris mumbled something then closed his eyes and let his head loll to the side. Invictus wiped off bits of Varterral with disgust as he came back to them. “This is more disgusting than spider guts. How are you feeling love?” 

Anders bowed his head for a moment. “I’ve had better days,” he said quietly. “Maker, what _was_ that thing?” He shook his head and shuddered. “Fenris will be alright in a little bit - just give him a few minutes. His body took quite the hit there.”

Merrill had fallen to her knees beside Pol and was quietly crying. Anders glanced over at her.

Vic smiled at how Anders answered to love and that Fenris seemed to be alright. “I’m going to have to get him better armor.” 

“No...you’re not.” the elf slurred as he turned his head towards the sound of Invictus’ voice. “Not...helpless.” he said before he went silent again. 

“I doubt he’d have fared any better in something heavier - possibly even far worse,” remarked Anders with a faint frown. “His current armour has a minimal amount of metal - he’s far faster and agile in it, and lighter if thrown. Less momentum and inertia. He couldn’t have dodged as much as he did in something heavier - so the creature would have gotten in a far more solid blow.”

“Hmm, true.” Vic said before he turned to see Merrill still crouched by Pol’s form. “Why don’t you check on her, I’ll sit with Fenris.”

Anders nodded and pushed himself back up to his feet, picking up his staff then pausing to pat the other mage on the shoulder before heading over to the Dalish mage.

“Pol. Oh Pol, why did you run?” she was sobbing quietly to herself.

“He was terrified,” said Anders quietly as he came to stand by Pol’s feet, staring down at the dead hunter as he leaned on his staff.

“Of me? But why?” exclaimed Merrill. “I don’t understand!”

“You’re... a blood mage, Merrill. Most people would find that reason enough I’m afraid.” He tried to soften his tone but still she flinched.

“And do you think I’m a monster?” she hissed, glaring up at him through her tears. he ducked his head guiltily.

“No,” he said quietly. “But I am afraid for you.”

“It was for the Eluvian,” Merrill said quietly. “I didn’t have enough lyrium to cleanse it of the taint. I couldn’t do it alone. Don’t you see, I had no choice?”

“You could have left the mirror alone,” said Anders quietly.

“I wish I had!” she cried out. “I wish to Mythal I’d never laid eyes on the damned thing! If I’d let it be, I would never have left the clan. Pol would still be alive, and none of this would be happening!”

Anders leaned down and let his hand rest gently on her shoulder, saying nothing. She glanced up at him and then scrambled to her feet, flinging her arms around his waist as she buried her face against his chest and wept.

He stared down, a little nonplussed, then awkwardly put his arm around her and hugged her.

Invictus looked away to Fenris and scooped the elf up in his arms after slinging his sword across his back. “Come on love, let’s get back to the surface.” Vic said quietly.

“We win? Get the Varter…” Fenris murmured half-awake. 

“Yeah...we got it.” Vic said sadly. 

“We should take Pol back with us,” sniffed Merrill as she pulled away slightly. Anders glanced down at the dead elf then slung his staff on his back before bending and, with some effort, managing to haul the dead elf up over his shoulder.

Merrill cast around the remains of the varterral before picking something up and then nodding to Anders. “Let’s go,” she said quietly.

Invictus followed behind Anders, occasionally answering Fenris’ ramblings as they went, being careful not to whack his head or legs on low beams as they made their way down to the main camp area. Vic found a soft grassy spot to lay Fenris down and sat with him while Merrill and Anders spoke with the Keeper.

Several elven hunters came forward to relieve Anders of his burden. Merrill went to the Keeper and laid something in her hand, murmuring something before fresh tears broke out and Merrill buried her face in her hands. Marethari nodded to her not unkindly before turning to Anders.

“The clan must prepare the final rites for Pol. We thank you for bringing him to us.”

Anders nodded tiredly and glanced over at Fenris and Invictus. “Our companion took injuries during the fight. I have healed him, but....”

Keeper Marethari nodded. “You may rest here with us. It will take a little time for us to sing Pol upon his way, and there is much I must do to assist Merrill with the task ahead. The arulin’holm will be but one small part of what must be done. But come, there is a place for you all to rest, and food will be brought to you.”

She led them to another aravel and gestured for them to enter.

“Not you, da’len,” she said to Merrill gently. “Your place now is with us whilst we send Pol on his way.”

Merrill glanced at the others, then nodded. “Yes, Keeper Marethari,” she acquiesced, and followed the Keeper away.

Vic watched her go then turned his attention to Fenris, the elf seemed to be asleep but he wasn’t sure. “Fenris?”

The answer was a mumble of Tevene and Trade that made no sense even as the elf turned towards his voice. 

“Sleep love, rest well.” he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the elf’s temple before he stretched out on the floor of the aravel and sighed. “So we’ll be here for the day at least, it’s too far to hike back and make it home by nightfall.” Vic said quietly. 

Anders gathered a few of the brightly-coloured cushions and piled them haphazardly against a wall of the aravel then dropped down to sit with his back against the wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his staff beside his side. “So it seems,” he said, and exhaled a long breath. “Best to let Fenris sleep off things as much as possible.” He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

“Maybe we all should sleep while we can.” Vic said before he let his eyes fall shut as well. 

Anders shrugged. He wasn’t actually asleep, merely deep in thought. It wasn’t long before the Champion’s breathing deepened into the even cadence of sleep and Anders was the only one awake.

He became aware of the sounds of movement outside the aravel; elves coming and going, the smell of wood smoke fires. He heard a party of hunters departing on a sortie. The elves’ voices were hushed and subdued. Occasionally one voice or another would rise in a soft song; the words were alien to him but the tone of lament was unmistakable. The lone voice would be joined by one or two others for a while, and then all would quietly tail off into silence again.

After a while one particular voice was raised in chant, and the rest of the encampment grew quiet. Anders frowned slightly; he thought he vaguely recognised the words from when Invictus had led them up to Sundermount the first time, back when they first met Merrill. The invocation Merrill had used over the amulet.

The voice drew nearer, and then other voices were raised, joining in the chant. It sounded like the whole clan were passing near the door of the aravel, and Anders silently got up from his place by the wall to creep to the door and peek out through the beaded curtain.

Keeper Marethari was walking past the aravel toward an open empty space in the centre of the camp. Merrill walked beside her, and it was she who was singing, the rest of the clan quietly joining in. Behind Merrill came six hunters, bearing Pol’s body upon their shields, and then the rest of the clan following behind.

As he watched, they paused in the centre of the clearing, and then the hunters lowered Pol’s body to the ground before stepping back. Other elves came forward with garlands of flowers which they laid around Pol’s body, before returning to the ranks of elves gathered around the clear space.

The other voices died away, until only Merrill’s voice rose, high and true; and then she, too, fell silent.

Keeper Marethari stepped forward, and began to speak. Anders didn’t know enough elvhen to follow her words, but her voice was gentle and peaceful. She spoke for some time, and then the whole clan chanted together the words of _uthenara_ together.

Anders couldn’t quite see what was going on, and shifted over to the other side of the doorway, craning his neck to see past the throne of elves. Marethari seemed to be gesturing over the body, and then suddenly a hush fell over the throng. The air felt heavy and charged, as though a storm were gathering though the late afternoon sky was clear and blue.

Then Marethari gestured, and Anders felt a rush of incredibly powerful, ancient magic stirring in the glade. There was a brilliant flash of light and Anders was forced to shield his eyes. When he could see again, the elves were dispersing - and where Pol’s body had lain, remained only a few white flowers scattered in the grass. There were no scorch marks or other signs of destruction; it were as though the dead elf’s body had simply... vanished.

Anders drew back as a group of the elves passed near the door of the aravel, mulling over what he’d just seen. As he glanced back out past the beaded curtain, Keeper Marethari walked passed, head bent in deep conversation with Merrill; but as they drew level with the aravel, the Keeper glanced up and her keen eye seemed to pierce Anders to the heart as he crouched there.

Hastily he backed away and returned to his place leaning against the wall to consider all he’d seen.

**

Fenris walked sullenly in the middle of the group. He was tired, his stomach was in knots and he just wanted a hot bath, a meal and a bed that didn’t move. The rest of this weird shit could wait.

He was flanked on either side by Anders and Arden; Hal had taken the lead, surprisingly - a scarf of Isabela’s (a last parting gift before he left the ship) tied over his brand and helping to keep the waist-length red hair out of his eyes as he strode easily along the sandy path that led back up along the Wounded Coast toward Kirkwall. Varric brought up the rear, Bianca cradled in his hands as the dwarf kept a weather eye out for anyone trying to sneak up on them from the rear.

Anders was mostly recovered from his earlier bout of hysteria aboard the ship and the effects of the sleep spell, but Fenris wasn’t entirely certain the withdrawn silence was much of an improvement.

The elf figured once he’d gotten himself set to rights, he’d ask Anders what was wrong, besides the obvious. He glanced at Arden occasionally but didn’t speak, he was too out of it.

Hal paused and lifted a hand, and the others halted. He made a “stay back” signal with his hand that Fenris had seen Arden use so often it was uncanny seeing it unconsciously used by the red-head before Hal cautiously moved forward. Fenris could feel the pull of magic on his brands as Hal drew power and gathered it in his hand, readying it though not shaping it yet as he advanced toward a bend in the path. There was a tense silence for a moment, and then Hal swiftly gestured and the ball of energy shaped itself into a fireball which streaked away to explode just out of view, the explosion lighting up the rocks around as surprised yells erupted around the bend. “Slavers!” he called back.

Anders and Arden ran forward, both unslinging their staves as they moved to opposite sides of the path, giving Fenris a clear path through as Varric cocked Bianca with a loud click behind them.

Fenris didn’t speak, he just lit up and went to work on the slavers, his fury building even as he ghosted around the battlefield. He wound up behind one unfortunate slaver merc that wound up pureed into a pile of blood, guts and bones on the sand. “I...hate...slavers.” the elf screamed as he found a new target.

Hal worked in fluid partnership with both the other mages, switching easily between lightning spells that danced with unerring accuracy despite the lack of staff amongst the enemy, a haste spell that sped Fenris’ feet, and healing spells whenever a slaver’s blade managed to find its way past the elf’s defences. Anders concentrated on paralysis glyphs and ice spells that kept the enemy swordsmen pinned down until Fenris could deal with them whilst Arden rained fire and lightning down on them. Varric picked off the ones that tried to flank the elf or looked likely to burst free before Fenris could get to them.

The fight was swift, brutal - at least upon their opponents - and over swiftly. Arden spent a few minutes going toe-to-toe with a rogue mage the slavers had brought along until a swift spirit bolt took the other mage’s attention and Fenris could take the mage’s head.

Then all was quiet as they stared round at the blood-soaked sand and scattered bodies.

Hal walked over to the remains of the dead mage and picked up the fallen staff, twirling it experimentally as Varric retrieved arrows and set about looting bodies.

“I am so damned sick of slavers, and everyone else too.” Fenris snarled as he wiped blood off himself.

Hal eyed him silently but said nothing, toeing the body of the dead mage over onto his back.

“Home..I want to go home.” Fenris said tiredly from where he was leaning against a rock wall. Varric wandered over and shoved a stamina potion into the elf’s hand then moved off without saying a word as Anders seemed to be deliberately looking anywhere but at the elf. 

Arden wiped blood off the bladed end of his staff. “I’m ready when everyone else is,” he remarked casually.

Fenris pushed off the wall and headed for the city with a singlemindedness that was almost frightening to see. Hal fell into step near but not quite next to the elf, Anders and Arden a few steps behind, Varric bringing up the rear as before.

Thankfully nothing else got in their way as they went and all of them got home by nightfall. Fenris didn't stop until he was in the bathing chamber and up to his neck in hot water.

Varric lingered briefly to talk to Arden. “Look, don’t worry about Daisy - I’ll go talk to her. You three - well, I guess it’s four, with Hal - you just worry about getting some food and rest, and you keep an eye on Anders. I know, I know, you would anyway,” he went on as Arden opened his mouth to argue. “But I’ve never seen Blondie in the state he was when Fenris got him back to the ship, and things like that - well, you know better than I do the kind of longterm effect that’s likely to have on a man. I’m just worried, Hawke, you know?”

“I know, Varric,” nodded the Champion. “I’ll look after them all, don’t you worry.”

“And who’s going to look after you, Hawke?” asked Varric. “I’d best go. I’ll make some discreet enquiries and keep an ear open for word of Isabela.”

“Take care, Varric,” nodded Arden as the dwarf left.

Hal stood by the foot of the stairs. He still wore the headscarf, for which Arden was grateful; the sight of the brand on his forehead was too disquieting, and it was the last thing Anders needed a constant reminder of each time he looked at the red-head.

“Did Bodahn move you to a better room?” asked Arden tiredly.

“He did; thank you,” replied the other mage. “It’s... strange. The house seems oddly familiar to me now - not just from the time I spent here whilst Tranquil, but now I have all Endrin’s memories laid over the top.”

“I think I know what you mean,” nodded Arden as he crossed to the stairs. “It was strange being in Invictus’ house for a similar reason. Everything seemed familiar and yet not quite.” Hal nodded. Arden began to head up the stairs.

“I’m going to check on Anders and Fenris. I’ll have dinner served in the dining room in an hour; there are too many of us to comfortably fit round the kitchen table now.”

“I’ll see you then,” nodded Hal as Arden headed up to the master bedroom.

Anders was stretched out on the bed, still fully-clothed apart from his boots, his staff within hand’s reach of the side of the bed. His eyes were closed; Arden decided to leave him be for now and headed to the bathing chamber.

“Fenris?” he called quietly.

“Here.” the elf responded from where he’d stretched out in the tub after topping it off with more hot water and bath salts to ease his sore muscles. 

Arden slipped into the bathing chamber and closed the door quietly behind him. “Would you like company, or would you rather be alone love?” he asked softly.

“Alone is the last thing I need, never mind what I want.” Fenris said as he opened his eyes just a bit, the usually vibrant colour dark behind his thick lashes. 

Arden regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then shucked off his robe before bending down to unlace his boots then stripped off. He made his way to the side of the tub, pulling the leather thong from his hair and shaking the long dark gold locks loose from their customary ponytail before slipping into the tub next to the elf. He ducked under the water to wet his hair than sat up, blinking water off his dark eyelashes.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

Fenris sighed and glanced up at the ceiling. “I failed Arden, I broke my word to Anders. He was so worried about templars and all this weird shit and he was snatched from me. After all that Arden I failed him.” his voice broke and hot tears slid down Fenris’ face. “I promised and I fucking failed him.” 

“We were expecting regular templars Fenris. Not the Imperial Chantry. We had no way of knowing they were after him,” said Arden. “What would you have done differently? Tied him up in his room and refused to let him leave?”

“That’s not funny Arden. I could not keep my word after I promised to keep him from harm. The look of terror on his face will haunt me for all my days!” Fenris said harshly.

“I failed him as much as you did,” said Arden quietly. 

“You did not.” Fenris muttered angrily before he dipped his head under the water and scrubbed at his face. “I’m the fighter, I swore...I fucking swore Arden. He...he...was so scared.” 

“And I’m the Champion of Kirkwall - Andraste’s flaming arse, Fenris, if anyone should have been able to keep him safe, it was me! And yet when it came down to it, my title means absolutely fuck all.” He stared at the elf, face pale save for two bright spots of colour on his cheeks and the flash of his amber eyes. “What use is any of my power or influence if it cannot keep safe a man I love?” His eyes softened slightly. “I know only too well how scared he must have been. I’ve knelt before templars with the brand over my head; when he wakes screaming because he can still feel the heat above his brow, believe me - I’ve been there before. I’ve had those same nightmares. You held me through many of them, as did he. And I couldn’t save him.” He shook his head slowly. “Don’t blame yourself like this, love. We all failed him.”

Fenris turned his head and refused to let Arden see the pain cross his features. “As you say Arden. I’m going to get some sleep.” 

Arden groaned and slumped back against the wall of the tub. Whenever Fenris spoke to him like that he knew he’d failed to get through. The elf was too caught up in his own guilt to let anyone else in or hear anything else but blame, regardless of what was actually said. he’d have done better to hold his tongue; and yet he couldn’t stop himself trying once more. 

“He doesn’t blame you, love.”

“I blame myself, he doesn’t have to.” Fenris said as he rose and toweled off. “I’ll be in the room when you need me.” 

Arden groaned and sank down under the water. He stayed under until the burning in his lungs forced him back to the surface for air, and then he lashed out with a fist and smacked it hard against the rim of the tub. “Fuck,” he said loudly and distinctly. 

He got out of the tub when it started to cool, and toweled himself off briskly before pulling on a house robe. Flicking his wet hair back over his shoulder, he headed downstairs to the cellar and selected a bottle of wine before heading up to his study. Popping the cork, he dropped heavily into a chair by the unlit fire and drank directly from the bottle as he stared morosely into the empty grate.

Fenris didn’t stop Arden as he left the room, but instead curled around Anders and let his head rest against the mage’s chest with a sigh.

Anders murmured something indistinct, and then his arm slowly curled around the elf. 

Fenris closed his eyes and tightened his hold, thankful he could hold Anders once more. The mage shifted his head slightly on the pillow then exhaled slowly, his breath catching in an odd little hitch at the end.

Fenris mumbled in his sleep, and jumped when he felt a shake to his shoulder to rouse him a half hour or so later.

“Sorry,” said Hal. “Dinner is about to be served.”

Anders made an odd little noise, almost but not quite a whimper in his sleep. Hal glanced at him. 

“I’m not sure what he’s dreaming of,” he said slowly. “He’s not screaming, at least, but I thought it best to perhaps leave you to wake him.”

Fenris shook his head slowly. “Tired...so tired.” he muttered as he pulled himself to a sitting position. “Dinner...we can sleep again after dinner.” he said and he touched Anders face gently.

Anders flinched slightly and his breath hitched in his throat. 

“Love...food, we need to eat.” Fenris said a little louder. “Get up, please.”

Anders’ eyes flew open but he didn’t seem to be seeing anything at first, his eyes unfocused as his brow creased. Then he blinked slowly and turned his head slightly, finally focusing his eyes on Fenris’ face. He drew a shuddering breath then nodded.

“Where is Arden?” asked Hal. “I thought he would be with you two.”

“Not sure, he left the bath after I did and I fell asleep pretty quickly. Perhaps he’s in the dining room already?” Fenris said as he slid off the bed and tightened his own house robe.

Hal shook his head. “No, I just came from there.”

“Can you check the study and if not there, then perhaps the cellar?” Fenris asked. They were interrupted by the sound of smashing glass; it sounded as though it came from a room nearby.

“Fuck.” Fenris groaned and headed in the direction of the noise. He found Arden in the study but didn’t like what he saw. “Hal, light please.” Fenris asked before he called out to his lover. “Arden?”

Hal called up a ball of light upon the palm of his outstretched hand. It illuminated the room softly, reflecting green off the shards of broken glass shattered across the hearthstone and the empty grate in the unlit fireplace.

Arden sat slumped in his chair, head lowered, eyes a mere glitter in the shadows beneath the curtain of dark blond hair that hid his face.

“Go away.” His voice was flat and toneless.

“Arden Victor Hawke...you will not sit here and mope. Come have dinner.” Fenris said with a ring of authority he hadn’t used in a long time.

“Make me.”

“Hawke, do not test me not after the days we’ve had. Get up.” Fenris hissed.

“Or you’ll do what, precisely?” The eyes shifted, the gaze flat.

“Pick you up and take you to the dining room, that’s what.” Fenris said. 

One hand lifted slowly from the armrest of the chair, almost lazily, and turned palm uppermost. Swirling green energies gathered with a soft whisper of power around the hand before coalescing into a ball of green flame upon the palm of his hand. “I’d like to see you try.”

Hal clutched at Fenris. “No,” he breathed. “G-get out. We have to get out. Now.”

“Demon?” Fenris said flatly.

“It’s bad. Very bad. Something’s in here. Something....” Hal’s breath hitched in his chest as his hand tightened on Fenris. “I’m scared,” he breathed.

“Now you’re scaring me Hal.” Fenris said as he started to back away from Arden. “Void, he’s scaring me.” 

“What’s going on?” asked Anders as he wandered up behind them and stood in the doorway, blocking their way out.

“All of you get out. Now,” said Arden in that same flat voice.

“Anders get out of the fucking way, now.” Fenris said in a voice that was a bit too high as he backed into his lover and tried to squeeze past him.

“What? No, wait -” began Anders as he stared over Fenris’ head at Arden. The light illuminating the room was flickering and throwing strange shadows crazily around the room as Hal’s hand shook. Anders frowned and gestured, a ball of clear strong light soaring up into the middle of the room and lighting it up as clear as a bright sunny day. Anders stared at Arden and then his face hardened. “Ah. I see.”

He pushed past Fenris. “It didn’t occur to you Hal to try this?” he asked, and with a seemingly casual flick of the wrist he threw a spirit bolt directly at Arden.

It struck the Champion in the dead centre of the chest and Arden’s breath whooshed out of him in one pained gasp. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell forward onto the floor, face first, as something rose up behind the chair.

“Gentlemen, if you would be so kind? Let’s kill that bastard.”

Fenris growled and pivoted on his heel to launch himself at the thing with one glowing fist outstretched towards it in an effort to end it in one swoop. Hal’s eyes widened as the despair demon revealed its true form, and then his expression hardened as an odd gold light lit up his eyes. He gestured and sent a spirit bolt flying directly toward the demon, striking it a fraction of a second before Fenris struck, even as Anders hastily threw shield and haste spells upon the elf before crossing the room on long legs swiftly towards Arden.

Fenris reached into the mass of the creature, got his hand around what passed for it’s heart and tugged hard enough to send him tumbling backwards towards the others. “I am so fucking sick of demons.” he snapped as he flung ichor from his hand.

Hal threw a ball of glowing golden energy toward the demon and there was an abrupt explosion of golden light as a shockwave threw both Hal and Fenris to the floor and knocked Anders staggering sideways as the tall mage dropped to his knees beside Arden. When they looked up, there was a large scorch mark on the wall behind where the demon had stood, but of the demon itself no trace remained save the organ clutched in his dripping fist.

Fenris stood up and marched out of the room towards the guest privy so he could scrub himself clean while he swore colourfully in every language he knew. 

Hal stared at the mark on the wall as the strange light in his eyes died, and then slowly and soundlessly collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. Anders was too preoccupied to notice as he bent over Arden’s still form, rolling him over and checking he was OK. “Maker, you reek of alcohol,” the healer muttered to himself.

Fenris entered the room to find the mess and stepped over to Hal. “He’s out like a light and...Arden smells like he fell into a brewery vat.” he said with a wrinkle of his nose. 

Anders glanced briefly over at the unconscious red-head, then at the smashed glass in the grate. “If he downed an entire bottle of wine by himself in here in the length of time he’s been alone, I’m not surprised he’s drunk,” he remarked. “Let’s get them both out of here. You take Hal, I’ll take Arden.”

Fenris grunted as he hefted Hal up and over his shoulder, then made his way back up to the newly restored mage’s room. After depositing him on the soft bedding he turned to face the others. 

Anders was struggling with Arden. He’d slung the other mage’s arm across his shoulder and wrapped his free arm around Arden’s waist and was half-carrying, half-dragging him. “I need a hand,” he gasped, trying to keep from dropping the other mage on the floor. Though Anders was surprisingly strong for one so slender, Arden was near his own weight and Anders was still weak from his ordeal at the hands of the Imperial Chantry.

Fenris helped him get Arden into bed and flopped next to him with a sigh. “I’ll get us a tray once I’ve caught my breath.” the elf said. Anders nodded, breathing hard, then fell headlong onto the bed across the foot. 

“I guess that answers one question,” he said quietly. “I was wondering when the demons would start coming for Arden.”

“Can they fucking wait a day at least?” Fenris said tiredly. 

“They’re demons, Fenris, they don’t exactly run on a timetable,” said Anders, then giggled.

“Be glad I love you.” Fenris said before he forced himself to his feet and to the door. Anders continued to giggle, though he clapped a hand over his mouth and tried to stifle it.

The elf shook his head then headed down to the kitchen to fetch dinner; even if Arden and Hal were out cold he was starved. Anders also needed to eat; it was certain that he had several meals to make up for, as Fenris highly doubted his captors had bothered feeding him anything other than magebane and whatever else they may have forced down the mage’s throat.

Anders had managed to stop giggling by the time the elf returned, and sat up as he entered, staring hungrily at the laden tray.

Fenris sat the tray down and started to eat with no preamble or chatter, he was tired and hungry.

Anders hunched over the tray, not bothering with cutlery as he grabbed food with all the urgency of a starving man. The nausea from the magebane had worn off shortly after he’d woken on the beach, only to be replaced by a gnawing pain in his stomach and guts as his Warden metabolism protested the starvation and lack of food. He knew he should eat slowly and not overtax his stomach and digestive system, but the instinct to cram everything he could see into his mouth as fast as possible was very hard to resist, and he found himself repeatedly having to check himself in the act of bolting his food like a starving wolf. 

“You’re going to throw up Anders.” Fenris said between bites of his meal. 

Anders swallowed and then tried to stifle a whimper. “I know, but I’m starving. All they fed me was magebane and whatever was in those potions they kept forcing down my throat, and - and they _bled_ me, Fenris, they took pints from me. I need to make it up. I’m trying not to bolt my food but with my Warden metabolism I’m actually in pain.”

“My apologies then love. I’m going to try and sleep a bit once you return, but there is plenty in the kitchen if you are still hungry.” Fenris set his tray aside and stretched out next to Arden with a sigh. 

Anders had to fight very hard not to give in continuously, and when his stomach felt uncomfortably full even though his hunger still seemed to gnaw deep in his guts, he had to restrain the urge to cry with frustration.

“I can’t eat any more. I want to, I _need_ to but I can’t,” he groaned.

“Then rest with us and when you are able, have more.” Fenris murmured softly. Anders allowed himself to be drawn down upon the bed with Fenris; exhausted and with his stomach for now filled, it was not long before he had fallen fast asleep, snoring softly.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal goes visiting in the Fade. Vic and co enjoy the hospitality of the Dalish elves and do their best to wear out Anders.

Hal walked slowly through the Fade. It felt at once both familiar and yet strange to him; Endrin had become one of the denizens of the Fade several years ago, but Hal had been severed from it. He saw it both with the fresh eyes of one denied dreams for too long, and with the eyes of one who had become part of it, understood it on a level that no mortal perhaps was ever meant to.

And he could feel it all around him; feel its currents and eddies, the swirls of its otherworldly tides as they brushed against his body, responded to his whims.

Even as Endrin had bridged that severed gap inside Hal, here Hal was the living link that held the thread tying Endrin back to the mortal world.

There were other threads in the Fade; mortal lives that shone like gold through the soft eternal twilight of the Fade, and like the spirits of the Fade Hal could feel them calling to him. Though mages could walk the Fade in their dreams, they could not see it as Hal now did. He wondered if Anders saw it the same way.

He was aware of the blond apostate now, Anders caught once again in the violent memories of his incarceration at the hands of the Imperial Chantry. With a thought, Hal entered the other mage’s dream, watching as the magister flicked at the pale skin with a wicked small knife then poured lyrium into the wounds whilst Anders screamed. Frowning, Hal reached out but it was as Endrin that he gestured and the dream changed. The magister dissolved away, the blood and lyrium merely water across the mage’s smooth unharmed skin, the chains become wreaths of flowers as the mage fell back into the arms of Fenris, the elf gently kissing away his tears as they moved together as one in the shady pool beneath the willow tree in the garden of Fenris’ mansion, the elf’s own disturbing dreams giving way to the more pleasant tryst as Hal drew gently upon the bright silver thread that was Fenris.

Hal smiled to himself and moved away, leaving the two dreamers to share the loving fantasy together.

Arden was bright gold drenched in flame; Hal was drawn toward him and was unsurprised to find him locked within his own nightmares, the shadowy forms of demons drawn to the miasma of despair exuding from his sleeping mind as it replayed the final moments before sleep - the despair demon’s tentacles reaching through the Fade into his heart, playing him like a puppet as it drew upon his strength. In the dream, it went further; Arden was tormented by visions of himself slaying his loved ones, and the demons that clustered around him as he slept were feeding on the richness of his terror and despair.

They scattered as Hal walked among them, his fury a physical force that burned fiercer than any mortal fire. They fled from the red-haired mage as he scattered them, and then he took the place of his dream-self before Arden. Whereas in the waking world he had been overwhelmed by a rush of emotions he could not control, here he felt no fear even as he replayed for Arden what had happened though this time he downplayed Endrin’s role. He remembered how it had felt as the spirit of the mage had risen up and taken control, blasting back the demon with a blast of pure spirit energy; but here he allowed the starring role instead to fall to Anders, the dream-apostate dispatching the demon with a blast of fire before catching Arden in a tender embrace. As Hal retreated, he smiled, the darkened study giving way to memories of the bedroom and the elven warrior, blond apostate and Champion all rediscovering their first evening together as lovers, the memories drawn deftly from Arden’s sleeping mind.

Hal drifted on, drawn toward another bright thread. Another Hawke. He slipped through the wavering, shifting boundaries of another dream and found himself regarding Invictus.

The dark haired, dark skinned apostate stirred in his sleep. His voice was troubled as he called out for someone to stay, apologies falling from him rapidly as his face showed fear, worry, hurt all in rapid succession. “Please...no, I’m sorry Fenris...don’t...go.” he said over and over as he reached out to keep the elf there. 

“Fenris will not leave you,” said Hal quietly as he stepped out of the shadows. “He loves you.” He glanced around the formless, shapeless grey space the mage had wrought of his own fear and despair. There was little here he could manipulate; he had to be more direct. He stood in front of the Champion, his soft grey robes swirling silently around his ankles as his red hair stirred in the unseen currents and eddies of the Fade.

“I lied to him...it’s too late, Anders is gone!” Vic cried out as he fought against his dreams, sure it was real.

“Where do you think Anders has gone?” Hal asked quietly, stepping closer. The fabric of this dream was resisting him, but he could feel himself starting to get a hold on the nature of it, and though he couldn’t effect a major change, he could influence it whilst he spoke with Invictus. The dark grey shifted, becoming a little paler.

“I don’t know...he was so angry...and Fenris, the way he looks at me now.” Vic said in despair as he opened his eyes but did not see Hal, all he could see was the dark cloud over his room, what he perceived as real. 

Hal drew closer and laid a hand lightly upon Invictus’ chest. “Anders was not angry at you,” he said gently. “Why would he be angry? He is afraid, as you all are.”

“He is… I nearly got him killed, I lied to my other half, my heart. I used him. He’s going to leave me.” Vic sobbed as he flung his arm over his eyes.

Hal tried to think fast. He had no idea what had been going on in Invictus’ Kirkwall; since Endrin had joined with him, he had been absent, unable to watch over Invictus and the others from the Fade as before. He carefully felt out the threads around him that wove through the Fade, unseen by mortals such as the mage before him but clear to the eyes of the spirit joined within him. He felt the bright lyrium silver line that was Fenris; the elf’s dreams seemed peaceful, by contrast with Invictus himself.

Anders’ thread was fainter, a tawny gold, like the hair of the mage himself. Anders was awake, he could feel that much himself. And yet....

He took the hair-fine thread gently in his hand and pressed it into Invictus’ fingers. “Hold it gently and tell me what you see,” he said quietly.

As Invictus’ fingers curled instinctively around the thread, he had a moment’s disorienting sensation he was staring at himself through someone else’s eyes.

_”I wonder when Invictus will wake up. It’s kind of lonely with him and Fenris still asleep. Maker, what happened to Pol’s body? ... the way the Keeper looked at me. That was unnerving.... Please wake up Invictus, I hate this silence.... Hate being alone. Funny how fast you get used to having someone else there. Love. There’s a name I haven’t been called since Karl... Wait. I haven’t thought of Karl in days. ... I like it when Invictus calls me ‘love’. I feel wanted. Loved. It’s a nice feeling. ... Please wake up soon love.”_

Hal let the thread drift free of Invictus’ fingers and waited to see what effect the brief glimpse into Anders’ mind would bring.

“I didn’t mean to lie Fenris, please...I thought it was best for me. I need...I need your ...please I’m sorry I used you for my penance. Don’t go, I’m sorry love…” Vic said brokenly as he tried to sit up and reach out for the elven fighter. 

Hal sighed as the dream shifted and began to shred around them both, the mage starting to wake up. He reached out and touched Fenris’ thread, allowing his form to shift into that of the elf as he drifted forward to ghost his lips over those of the mage.

“I love you, Vic,” his voice rumbled in the deep baritone of the warrior. “I will always forgive you. Forgive yourself please love.”

Hal closed his eyes as the dream dissolved like mist around them and Invictus began to fade from view. He would have to try again.

Invictus’ eyes opened and he turned to find Anders nearby with a worried look. “What’s wrong?” he slurred as he tried to sit up and clear his head of strange dreams. 

“You seemed to be having a bad dream,” said Anders, his eyes lighting up with relief as he helped Invictus sit up. “You were... talking in your sleep.”

“What did I say to have you looking like that?” Vic muttered as he rolled to his feet and stretched. 

Anders twisted his fingers together and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’m not angry with you. I wouldn’t leave you. I’m more scared you’d leave me, to be honest. And... Fenris. You said you lied to him. Again.”

“What?” Vic said in surprise. ”I guess I was dreaming that he was going to go after my deceit. It was strange, like it had just happened yesterday in the dream. I haven’t lied again, I’ve learned my lesson believe me.” the Champion said as he went over to their elven lover and caressed his face gently. “When will he wake up?”

“He should wake any minute. I hope he was having nicer dreams than you seemed to be having,” Anders said quietly. He glanced up at Invictus. “You do know I’m not angry with you, right? It must have been on your mind if you were dreaming of it.”

“In my head yes, my heart isn’t quite up to speed.” Vic said as he caressed Fenris’ face gently and wished for the elf to awaken. His next pass was halted by a strong grip on his wrist and a twist that made him cry out.

“Fenris! Let go...Maker, it’s me.” he whined at the harsh yank on his arm. 

The elf’s eyes opened and he blinked a few times before he released his hold on his lover and dropped back to the bedding. “Apologies, I ...was not sure who was touching me as I woke. Are you hurt?” 

Anders watched the two of them silently, an anxious presence hovering unobtrusively near the door of the aravel.

“Stings but you are damned strong. Come on, I’m sure you’re hungry after sleeping so long.” Vic said as he shook feeling back into his wrist and hand.

“Where’s Anders? I swore he was here when we came back, unless I was hallucinating?” Fenris said tiredly.

“I’m here,” said Anders quietly, shifting forward a little. He was still more than a little disquietened by Invictus’ rambling cries in his sleep, plus he’d had the distinct feeling of a presence somehow looking out from his eyes just before the other mage had woken; a feeling he hadn’t had since Justice had been ripped from him. Half of him wanted to beg Invictus to use another spirit bolt on him, the other half terrified that it might reveal something.

“Good, I was ...dreaming I was alone again and it was bothersome. I think I need a little help out of bed though.” Fenris said as he raised a hand for one of them to help him up.

Anders moved forward and grasped the elf’s hand firmly, bracing his arm against the elf’s weight. “Being alone... bothers you?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.” Fenris said as he closed his eyes at the feeling of being suddenly upright. “I could eat a bronto, once my legs stop shaking.”

“The feast should be ready soon,” said Anders. “I... don’t like being alone much either,” he said quietly, not quite releasing the elf’s hand though his grip lightened.

Vic watched them with a sense of unease, like something he was supposed to remember was on the cusp of his mind but he couldn’t quite get to the memory. “Do you want me to get you a snack or something?”

“Please, I think this shaking is from not eating for a while.” Fenris said as he leaned heavily on Anders and let his head drop against the blond’s chest. 

“We’re invited to the feast but there may well be something available if you go to one of the camp fires,” Anders said as he put his free arm around the elf gently, enjoying the feeling of closeness as he bent down slightly and bestowed a light kiss on the top of the elf’s head.

“I’ll just go do that.” Vic said and hurried from the aravel, his gut tight with the new feeling of jealousy at the sight of them. He ...he told Fenris it was alright, it was ok to bring Anders in but seeing them so comfortable had lit a flame of intense desire to pull Fenris into his arms, hiss that he was his and run away. 

Anders looked up, a trifle surprised at the abruptness with which Invictus departed. He let his hand stroke up Fenris’ back then threaded his fingers into the soft white hair, pressing another kiss to the top of Fenris’ head before cupping the back of his head and nuzzling one delicate upswept ear.

“He’s jealous.” Fenris said as he tilted his head to the side and let Anders comfort him. Anders buried his face against the side of Fenris’ neck with a little groan. 

“Hope he gets over it soon,” the mage murmured as he kissed and nipped lightly up the side of Fenris’ neck and then along his jaw. “I’m just rather glad you’re awake and none the worse for our encounter with the varterral. I was rather lonely whilst you were both asleep you know.” He nuzzled the elf’s ear again. “I hate being alone,” he whispered.

“So I can tell.” Fenris said dryly before he leaned up and kissed Anders on the lips. “We should all talk when we are back home. I ...am not prone to much jealousy but I have a feeling he was surprised by it and fled. I would not have further emotional traps to dodge as we go forward together.” the elf returned his affection slowly as they waited Vic’s return. 

“I’ll try to be good,” said Anders quietly. “I’m not given to jealousy myself. I’ve given myself freely to both of you. But I can... understand how after having you all to himself all this time he might find sharing hard. It’s... why I don’t mind if he wants to be a toppy bastard around me. If it makes him more comfortable then I’m happy to go along with it.” He paused. “It’s... part of the reason why I suggested the rope to him. Maybe I won’t seem such a threat to him subconsciously if he has me tied up and he can control things.”

“After what has been revealed, I am not sure he will want to indulge in such things with either of us. I think a long talk will be needed before we venture back into anyone submitting or being tied down.” Fenris said sadly. His face brightened when Invictus returned with a tray and wine skin for them. 

“Sorry it took me so long. My Dalish is atrocious and the hunters had a good laugh at my attempts at asking for food before they spoke in Trade with me.” 

Anders pulled away from Fenris, masking his reluctance to relinquish the feeling of the warm elf pressed against his body with a smile as he reached for the wineskin.

“I don’t know what some of these are, but hopefully you both like them.” Vic said as he chewed a sticky ball of meat and meal he had discovered.

“Some of this is ground halla, a rare treat especially to share with shemlen.” Fenris said as he picked up a leaf wrapped around ground meat, spices and some kind of baked root vegetable. “The others are traditional elven dishes, made from what is nearby. The wine is potent so be careful.” he cautioned before he unwrapped his food and dug into it. 

Anders had just taken a large mouthful of the wine and he froze, then swallowed slowly before corking the wineskin and reaching for a spiced grain dish.

“Merrill told me part of the reason why they’d been here so long even after Hawke brought the amulet was because they’d lost their halla. I guess this is the last remains? Which makes it all the more remarkable that they’d share with us,” he remarked. He blinked; the wine was indeed potent. Even with that one mouthful his head was swimming a little. He blinked again, his mind drifting back to that strange sensation of other eyes again, and shook himself slightly. He wanted to enjoy this brief time with the others, not spend it brooding on a fleeting feeling that he couldn’t quite bring himself to mention.

“More than likely they preserved the meat, and yes it is an honor to have this. We should thank the Keeper for it.” Fenris said between bites and licking his fingers clean. “That hit the spot though...pass me that dish if you are done with it.” the elf grinned as he held his hand out, his mood improved after getting something in his belly.

Vic didn’t know if he could partake in the halla meat, he’d seen them once in Ferelden and they were such sweet, docile things. He put his own leaf covered ball on his lover’s plate and dug into to the vegetable stew instead.

Anders scooped a little more of the grain mix onto his plate then took one of the doughy meat-filled balls, sampling the spiced meat for himself. It was a light, delicate flavour, the spices complementing without overwhelming the flavour. 

“Are we to wait for the Keeper to end for us?” Fenris wondered as he finished his food then took a long pull off the wineskin. 

“No, she said once we’d eaten we could come to her Aravel.” Vic said as he noted how pleased the elf looked, the glint in his eyes bordered on devious as they looked at each other. 

Anders eyed the wineskin and debated trying to reclaim it from the elf then decided to leave it be. He sat back, licking sticky spiced sauce off his fingers as his glance switched between Invictus and Fenris, wondering what was on the elf’s mind.

The elven warrior crawled into Vic’s lap and after taking another sip he tilted the mages chin so he could kiss him and share his drink. After he’d taken a long moment to savor the other man, he turned and beckoned Anders over so he could do the same.

Anders rolled over onto hands and knees and crawled over to the elf, tilting his head so the elf could share a mouthful of wine with him too, then knelt back and regarded the two men thoughtfully, savouring the heady taste of the wine before swallowing slowly. He blinked, his vision momentarily blurring. 

“I care for you both Vic, neither of you will take more of my heart or less of it between you. This is a prelude to what I wish later, after we have aired our fears and concerns. Alright?”

Invictus nodded, then licked his lips to get the last hint of his lover’s kiss from his lips before he tugged Anders over by the hair and claimed his mouth as well. Anders’ breath caught in his throat as he felt Invictus’ strong fingers tugging at his hair, feeling a sharp but not unpleasant pain in his scalp before he let his head drop back as the mage’s lips bruised his own; he let his lips part, inviting the mage to plunder his mouth with his tongue, imprisoned by the fist in his hair. He let his eyes slide shut.

Fenris moved aside so they could kiss, his gaze lusty as he watched both men enjoying each other.

Vic wouldn’t have pulled away except for the shocked ‘oh’ he heard from the side and the shadow that fell over them. Anders gasped as Invictus released his mouth though not the fierce grip on his hair; after a moment, he opened his eyes and glanced up to see Merrill standing over them, one hand over her mouth as she stared at him, on his knees before the other mage, his head still forced back by the tight grip on his blond locks.

“Merrill! Hi! This is... um. Exactly what it looks like.”

“We’ll continue this later.” Vic said softly before he let Anders go and nudged Fenris off his lap so he could stand, and was grateful his armor hid his arousal, for the most part.

Fenris stepped back and kept his back to Merrill as he tried to shift himself so he was not so...indecent before they went to speak with Keeper Marethari. Merrill was staring at Anders with an expression that suggested she wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or very, very curious. Possibly both at once.

Anders was oblivious; as Invictus had released his hair, he had let his head drop, lifting one hand to rub the back of his neck briefly before he pushed himself to his feet. His lips were still flushed and slightly swollen, his eyes slightly glazed, as he tugged his tatty coat straight and brushed out the feathers on his pauldrons with an air of faint distraction.

Fenris strapped his sword back on and turned to her to indicate he was ready. “Let’s get this done.” 

Merrill nodded. “Anders, are you... alright?” she asked.

“Hmm? Oh. Yes. I’m fine,” he said slowly, still distracted. “I’m sorry, what’s happening now?”

“Keeper Marethari is waiting,” she prompted.

“Oh. Oh! Yes. Let’s go,” he answered, reaching for his staff.

Fenris was quiet as they walked, but he made sure to touch both men infrequently during the brief trip to the Keeper’s aravel. He folded himself on a nearby cushion, and offered his back to Anders once more. 

Invictus sat with Fenris’ legs across his lap and his back resting against a pole for support. “So what exactly are we in for?” he said softly. 

Marethari regarded them all gravely as she laid an ornately-carved box before them and opened it. They had no idea what to expect, but the long, slightly curved blade, completely unadorned and with a plain silver forged handle was almost an anticlimax after what they’d been through for the arulin’holm. It was a single-edged blade, a deep groove incised about an inch in from the blade edge and following the curve. The back of the blade was blunt and square with an odd groove that started shallow about two-thirds of the way along the blade, deepening to a sharp V near the point of the tool. 

“This is the arulin’holm,” said Marethari. “It is the most ancient artefact possessed by our clan. With it you may destroy physically the Eluvian in Merrill’s possession, and any others that it may have been used in connection with that you know of. But you must also use it within the Fade to sever its connections there.”

“Keeper, there are other Eluvians in other worlds, mirrors to this, that the Eluvian has connected to. Must we destroy them also?” asked Merrill.

Marethari seemed unfazed by the mention of mirror worlds. She merely nodded. “You, or your counterparts there. You will need help however from one who lies both within and beyond the Veil. There is one who bridges the worlds, and you will need his help. Without it, you cannot hope to destroy all the Eluvians, and should one remain intact then the Forgotten One may still seek a foothold in this or one of the other worlds - and once it has manifested through the Eluvian, it will not stop until it has destroyed all known worlds.”

“You mean - we’d have to destroy the Eluvian in Arden’s Kirkwall as well?” asked Anders.

The Keeper nodded. 

“Xenon won’t like that.” Vic said.

“Fuck him, that Eluvian in his shop should be the first one we destroy.” Fenris said with a slightly manic tinge to his voice. 

Anders stirred slightly. “But... to destroy the ones in Arden’s world... that means we’d have to travel there. How would we get back after destroying it? Would...” He broke off and swallowed hard. “Would one of us have to - stay there?”

“You must do whatever is necessary to destroy all the Eluvians,” said Keeper Marethari.

“No one is getting stuck in some other Kirkwall.” Fenris said harshly. “Not after all we did to get Invictus back, nor after what Anders had to do to return. There has to be another way.” 

“Then you must find it, child,” said Marethari. “I can only tell you what must be done. You must find the one who is the bridge between all the worlds.”

“Of course Keeper.” Fenris bowed his head in deference. 

Anders craned his head around and stared over Fenris’ head at Invictus. “Endrin. That means Endrin, right?” he said.

“If he can be called up again.” Fenris said. 

“Perhaps we can try to reach him through the mirror in the Emporium, after we’ve taken care of Merrill’s Eluvian.” Vic followed up.

“Or you could try and call him through my Eluvian before we destroy it,” suggested Merrill. “Then we still have the one in the Emporium to fall back on.”

“I suppose we could do that once we’ve had a chance to get home, rest and recover from all of this back and forth.” Vic said slowly. 

“You may stay here for the night, and we will send you on your way in the morning,” said Marethari. “You have had a long day, and one of you was injured - and one of you has not yet rested.” Her eyes glanced keenly at Anders, who dropped his head, a slow blush spreading across his cheeks.

“You did not sleep while we rested?” Fenris asked quietly. Anders shook his head, not looking up.

“Then we will make sure you are tired enough to sleep tonight.” Fenris said with a smirk and a glance to Invictus. “First, there is a feast correct Keeper?” 

Anders’ breath had caught in his throat at the promise in Fenris’ voice, but he didn’t look up as Marethari inclined her head. “You will all be welcome,” she said. “You were not able to save Pol, but you brought him back to us that we might bid him a last farewell. Though shemlen you be, you will be welcome among us this night.”

“Ma serranas Keeper.” Fenris said with a nod of his head. “If there is somewhere we can freshen up, I would appreciate the chance to be clean before the feast.” 

Vic didn’t smile though he wanted to at the look on Anders face, then at the expression Merrill wore. 

“But of course,” she nodded, then turned to Merrill. “Da’len, perhaps you would show your friends the bathing pool and tents. Bring them to the feast when they are ready.”

Merrill bowed to the Keeper then rose to her feet and gestured for them to follow her.

Anders kept his head down as he followed Fenris, but he did dart a sideways glance at Invictus. “Did he mean what I think he...?” he whispered, then broke off as he stared at the other mage’s hand. “There’s... some of my hair still caught around your hand,” he finished in a strangled voice.

“I’m sure he did, so I hope you can keep quiet while getting shagged in a tent.” Vic murmured as they walked, then he clenched his fist so the golden strands would not be lost to the forest. “I’m possessive, what can I say?” 

“Maybe you can add a few more later,” murmured Anders quietly as he glanced away.

“I hope so.” Vic said as he let his voice drop lower and his gaze linger over the blond longer than needed. 

“Stop plotting, I’ve already got plans for you.” Fenris said as he smiled like the cat that had gotten to the cream. 

“I can hear you, you know!” said Merrill, her voice sounding scandalised though she didn’t turn to look at them.

“I’ll have you know I am exceptionally good at keeping quiet whilst being shagged senseless,” murmured Anders beneath his breath. “It was practically a survival skill in the Circle.”

“Glad your elven hearing is still working then.” Fenris said with a feral grin.

They arrived at the bathing pool and Fenris didn’t hesitate to strip and slip into the natural hot spring. “This is just what I needed.” the elf said as he broke the surface and slicked his hair back from his face. “I want one for the house.” 

“Well that’s not going to happen unless we build a house here, I’m sure the Dalish would object.” Vic countered with a smile. 

Merrill backed away hastily and gestured at a nearby tent. “There are towels in there for when you’ve finished,” she said, blushing deeply before turning and fleeing.

“I think we actually scandalized her.” Fenris said with a laugh before he turned and smiled at his lovers. “Anders, you look hungry...as do you Invictus.” the elven fighter stepped up to them with an expression that seemed almost out of place on him, skin sun kissed, water running down his chest and his eyes bright in the afternoon sun. 

Anders shrugged off his worn coat and began to slowly peel off his shirt. “Oh?” he asked with a teasing grin.

“Yes, you do.” Fenris rumbled before he tugged at Invictus to join him. “Come to me.” 

“Careful we should not scandalize the whole clan with our antics.” Vic said as he peeled his clothes off and stepped into the steaming water. 

Anders finished peeling his clothes off, eyeing the clear water as he did so. The pool was surprisingly large, and quite deep - there was a shelf of rock all round the edge that dropped off into deeper water. He regarded the other two men with a slight smile, and then strode to the edge and dove gracefully and smoothly into the water, surfacing somewhere near the middle of the pool. He swam to the far side with steady sure strokes, then lay back in the water and skulled on his back to come and join the other two men.

“I think our mage is part fish.” Vic said as he leaned in to kiss Fenris deeply, an indecent moan escaping him between presses of his lips to the elfs.

“I should hope not, as I detest the taste of sea creatures.” Fenris huffed in amusement.

Anders floated comfortably on his back and smiled. “Not a sea creature,” he agreed. “I once swam Lake Calenhad to escape the Tower. This is much nicer though.”

“I should have known, with your long, powerful legs and lithe frame.” Fenris said as he reached down to caress Anders as he went by.

Anders lift his head, his eyes darkening with desire. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he said huskily.

“Where does everywhere get us then?” Vic purred as he tugged Anders to his feet and claimed his mouth briefly. 

“Anywhere you like,” whispered Anders. He took Invictus’ hand in his own and glanced at his fingers. “Oh look, you’ve lost those hairs of mine.” He lifted his eyes back to meet Invictus’ gaze. “Care to claim a few more?”

“Yes.” Invictus moaned in his ear before he reached up and tugged Anders head to the side and sunk his teeth into the mages neck, then laved his tongue over the marks. “So wicked...what would you say if the Keeper caught us, or you scandalized your little friend?” 

Anders bit down on the moan that threatened to escape his throat at the feel of Invictus’ teeth upon his skin, remembering the other mage’s earlier words about keeping quiet. “Maybe I’d ask them to join us,” he smiled, enjoying the feel of Invictus’ fingers in his hair. “You’re too gentle with me,” he whispered. “I won’t break.”

“I’ve no desire to bed either woman, besides I’ve got my hands full with you two as it is.” Vic tightened the grip on the mages dark blond locks and tugged hard. “Good.” 

Fenris had contented himself with laying back and watching them together, a mix of dark and light, brunet and blond, both men tall and well built for mages but Invictus was thicker, more muscular. 

Anders gasped as his head was yanked back and he closed his eyes and grinned. “Better,” he purred. “Now what will you do with me? You have my full attention.”

“Sadly I’ve no rope with me or a bedpost, else I’d take you up on your offer. As it stands I’ll settle for your talented mouth until after the feast. Then perhaps I’ll find something to keep you still.” Vic growled in his ear before he licked a wet stripe up Anders neck and tugged on his earlobe. 

Anders shivered and then slowly dropped to his knees, his movements constrained by the hand tightly fisting his hair. He reached up with one hand to stroke and fondle Invictus’ balls before encircling the mage’s cock with his hand, pumping it slowly as he opened his eyes and stared up at Invictus.

Vic eased his grip slightly and stared back at Anders with a slow inhale. “Well?”

Anders leaned forward, his tongue darting out to taste the tip of Invictus’ cock before he slowly swirled his tongue around the head. He pressed it firmly against the underside of the thick heavy member and ran it slowly back down to the root then back up to the tip again before swirling the tip once more. Then his lips parted and he drew Invictus’ length into his mouth, sliding forward a little then pulling back to swirl his tongue up and around the glans. 

He sank down again, taking in a little more before drawing back. The third time he moved forward, he took in Invictus’ whole length right down to the base, his nose pressed into the dark press of curls at the other mage’s groin as he relaxed his jaw and hummed.

The Champion’s grip tightened and he moaned long and loud at the feel of Anders mouth on him. “Maker...I want to keep you on your knees like this for all your days. So ...damned good.” he gasped and turned to face Fenris. 

“He’s so good love, so very …” Vic was cut off by another gasp and whine as Anders head bobbed as far as his grip allowed. “Can’t wait for later.” 

Anders closed his eyes against the sting in his scalp as his movements strained the limits of how far he could shift, tugging a little against Invictus’ grip as he swallowed the mage down to the root again before drawing back, lifting his hand to encircle the base of Invictus’ cock whilst his tongue pressed around the glans again then flicked over the slit, tasting the precum that was seeping there. He lifted his other hand to fondle and massage Invictus’ balls as his head bobbled forward again until the hand in his hair checked his forward movement, and then he released Invictus’ balls to reach up and fondle his arse instead, silently urging him with the light pressure of his hand upon Invictus’ buttock to begin thrusting into his hot, wet, welcoming mouth.

Vic dropped his hands to his side and took Anders hint. He braced his palms on the stone and let his hips thrust fast and shallow into the other man’s mouth. He finally looked down and smiled at Anders with a grin that was eager and pleased. He found he had to keep his mouth clamped shut to hold back the loud moaning he wanted to let loose. “Close...so close.” he grunted instead.

Anders shifted on his knees, rising up a little so he could tilt his head back farther, allowing Invictus to thrust deeper into his throat as his head bobbed faster. He deliberately swallowed around Invictus’ cock on the next thrust then hummed encouragement as he let a little weak electricity dance around the circle his hand made around the base of Invictus’ cock, just enough to add a little extra frisson.

That made Invictus buck harder and hold back a scream as he started to come with little warning to his lover. 

Fenris had been lazily stroking himself as Vic was pleasured but he was in no hurry to find release, instead he swam over and reached down to stroke Anders. “Let go.” he rasped in the mages ear. 

Anders’ only warning of Invictus’ release was the slight change in his breathing and the mage’s balls tightening before Invictus’ seed filled his mouth and throat. He swallowed reflexively rather than gag, then swallowed again, and again until he could breathe, each motion of his mouth and throat around the Champion’s cock eliciting another shiver and low moan from the mage. As Anders finally pulled away, his lips red and swollen, he was panting and holding back a groan himself, his body reacting to the elf’s touch on his own heated flesh. He let his head drop back and he closed his eyes, biting his lip as he felt his own climax building, hot and insistent in his groin as the elf’s hand moved faster.

He was silent as he came, breath hitching in his chest as his body shuddered and he spilled his seed into the water.

Fenris smiled and pressed light kisses to Anders neck and jaw before he pulled away. “That was an appetizer, you’ll get the rest after the feast.” 

Vic pulled himself from the daze he was almost falling into. “I think more of that might kill me.” he said before he dipped himself under the water and rinsed off. 

“Can’t have that now can we?” Fenris rumbled before he swam to the side where the towels were and climbed out to dry off. 

Anders knelt in the water, head back and eyes closed as his breathing slowed and returned to normal, then he lowered his head as he opened his eyes and glanced at Invictus. “Told you I could stay silent,” he said quietly. “You, you’d have had every templar down on you the first time you took a tumble in the tower.” He grinned as he pushed himself back into the water and then twisted about to dive down under the water. He surfaced in the centre of the pool briefly before diving down again, surfacing the second time on the opposite side of the pool where he pulled himself out, water sheeting off his lithe body, before slowly walking back around to join Fenris.

Vic just shook his head and joined the other two men on the other side of the pool with a smirk. “You’ll just have to teach me to be silent then won’t you. Come on, we need to find this feast.” 

Anders toweled himself off swiftly then dressed. “Shouldn’t be too hard,” he remarked. “Just follow the sounds of elves.” He nodded back the way they had come.

“Come on you two, I would like to find something more...festive to put on besides my armor. It’s full of small tears from the flying leap I took anyway.” Fenris said as he looked at his vest with displeasure.

Anders looked down at his tatty and worn coat with its dishevelled feathers and looked sorrowful.

“I’m sure they might have a vest or something for you to wear. Not all elves are slight and short.” Fenris said as he gestured at himself. 

Merrill was walking back to fetch them; she paused then smiled when she saw they were all dressed and not up to anything scandalous. “Oh good - you’re ready. If you just come with me, we have some nicer things that should fit you all?”

“Perfect.” Fenris said as he followed Merrill to a tent and took the bundle of fine linen and leather from her. 

Anders held up the linen shirt Merrill handed to him. “Are you sure this will fit me?” he asked dubiously.

“The sleeves may be a little short but it’s the best we could do on such short notice I’m afraid,” she said apologetically. She glanced at Invictus. “We didn’t have any shirts that would match your size either, but the leather tunic should fit.”

Fenris tugged on the linen shirt and leather pants that were a bit snug over his thighs and calves but overall he looked good. “Am I decent enough for the festivities?” the elf asked as he tugged at his tunic and smoothed it down. 

Anders tugged his shirt straight and then stared at his bare wrists, the sleeves ending a good three inches above them though the fit of the shirt was otherwise fairly good; it must be a very long length shirt on an elf, he reflected. “Doing better than me I think, but this _is_ nicer than my old things.”

They both turned to glance at Invictus.

“I’ll just stick with my leathers and leave the armored bits off. That’s not even going to fit my arms let alone cover my chest Merrill.” He handed the vest to Anders with a shrug. “Can’t hurt to see if it fits.”

Anders tugged it on wordlessly; it fit like a second skin, showing off the contours of his chest and the curve of his spine as though made for him. He glanced to Invictus and then Fenris, looking a little uncertain.

Fenris came over and tripped his fingers over the leather vest with a dirty smile. “I like this, hopefully you can keep it for later.” 

“Oh - you can keep the clothes, we don’t mind!” said Merrill hastily. “You’re... rather too tall for an elf, Anders, but it really does suit you. And you could use some new clothes, couldn’t you? Do you like it?”

Anders blinked at Fenris; the leather fit so closely he could feel the elf’s fingers through the finely-tooled hide. “He does,” he grinned.

“Yes, he does.” Fenris purred before he turned to face her. “Let’s join the party shall we?” 

The food they had eaten earlier was but a mere prelude to the feast that had been laid on. The hunters had returned with four deer and other prey besides; two of the deer had been roasted whole. There were savoury stews - both vegetable and meat - pies with crusts fashioned from crushed nuts and grains baked to crispness around the fires, large platters of steamed spiced wild grains, stuffed roasted vegetables, more of the doughy halla-filled balls and others with rabbit, venison and boar. There were stuffed ptarmigan, roasted in leaves and stuffed with their own eggs.

There was enough for the whole clan and their guests, and wine was flowing freely. Though at first the elves seemed naturally shy and reticent - particularly around the two humans - as the evening wore on tongues were loosened, and the elves laughed goodnaturedly at Invictus’ attempts to practice what little elvhen he knew and they attempted to teach a few words to Anders.

Two of the elven hunters dropped down to sit next to Fenris. “Kordal here reckons he’d be a faster runner than you, but I reckon you’d be a better shot on the hunt,” remarked one of them conversationally.

Fenris tipped his wineskin back and looked at them with an easy grin. “I am pretty fast, but have never attempted the bow.” he said in slurred elvhen. 

“Maybe you should then!” said Kordal. “You took down a varterral. That would make you a worthy hunter on its own but a good hunter should always know to handle his bow.” He winked.

“I can handle any bow just fine, and I’m master of my own.” Fenris said with a glint in his eye, sure the two hunters were having him on while he was in his cups. 

“Ah, but it’s how you handle another man’s bow that determines the measure of a true master, they say,” replied the first elf. “Tell me, how are you at dual-wielding?”

“Proficient, after all I’ve two humans and a score of dead enemies who can attest to my handling skills. Don’t ask Varric Tethras about me though, he swears we’re all after his crossbows Cocking Ring.” Fenris said then belched before he giggled just a bit. 

Kordal leaned closer and breathed in Fenris’ ear. “And can that big blond human attest to _your_ cocking ring, oh mighty hunter?” he purred. “Or do you favour a more... hands-on treatment of his?”

“He can attest to the depths I can plunge him to, and hands-on is always best ser hunter,” Fenris purred in response before he took another pull on his wineskin. “Are you offering to teach me?”

“Maybe you’d like to compare the Dalish way to your _shemlen_ lover’s hands?” suggested Kordal with a wink.

A little way away, Anders - who was by far the most sober person there - sat up a little straighter and darted a worried look over at Fenris, then glanced to Invictus and nudged the Champion.

“Hmm what’s wrong?” Vic said as he drank more wine.

“I think those two hunters are propositioning Fenris,” he said quietly.

“What? You do? Why?” Vic said as he glanced to where Kordal was leaning in pretty damned close to their lover.

“Because he’s an elf and the big damn varterral killer, apparently. And they want to give him the chance to compare elf flesh with the big blond human.” Sometimes Anders wished his hearing were not quite so sharp. He could feel his cheeks flaming pink as he wondered how many other elves here had been speculating about the relationship between himself and Fenris. He also had the impression the skintight leather vest had aroused more than Fenris’ attention; during the course of the evening more than one elf had found some excuse to walk behind him and stray hands kept trailing up his back at the most unexpected moments.

“If we go storming over there to rescue him, it will be an embarrassment to him and to the hunters. He can protect himself, more importantly we need to trust him.” Vic said as he leaned over and tugged Anders earlobe between his teeth. “You have to admit it’s a bit sexy, seeing them fall over him like that yes?”

“I thought I was the one who was supposed to get worn out enough to rest tonight?” murmured Anders, then jerked and hissed with pain as the inadvertent movement tugged his ear free of Invictus’ teeth. “Dammit, someone just pinched my arse!”

“Maybe they like what they see, how often do they see such fine shem specimens at their disposal.” Vic said with a laugh.

Anders groaned and buried his face in his hands. “This is worse than the last time you insisted on dragging us into the Blooming Rose,” he muttered.

Vic slipped his arm around Anders waist and kissed his cheek. “No one’s asked me how much for you, yet.”

“No, they’ll just offer to trade me for a couple of bows and a side of venison,” muttered Anders. “I’m... really not comfortable with this, Invictus.”

“Alright, let’s find a way to get Fenris back to our Aravel and we can pick up where we left off alright?” the darker mage said with a squeeze to his hip. 

Anders nodded silently, and wondered just how much else about himself had changed since before he had joined with Justice. Once he would have merrily thrown himself right into the whole thing and likely ended up disappearing into an aravel for some group orgy and finished the night having converted half the clan to the wonders of his electricity trick, but right now the very idea had him wanting to run a mile and hide. He was most certainly not the same mage who had entertained Isabela and the Lay Warden in the Pearl back in Ferelden. He just wanted Invictus and Fenris to fuck him silly and then curl up to and sleep and that would suit him fine, thank you very much.

Fenris had bantered with the other elf, cottoning on to what he wanted but gave no indication he was willing to join them for some fun. He’d been about to give his excuses so he could find his lovers and depart the festivities when he felt a strong, slender hand on his wrist.

“I think you should let go of me right now Kordal.” He said with a smile that did not reach his eyes. 

“Your place should be here with your own kind, not a couple of _shem_ ,” replied the elf, his eyes dark. “Let them go off on their own, and let us show you how the Dalish do things.”

Fenris let his brands light softly and he leaned down to snarl at the other elf. “Fucking is fucking no matter who’s involved. You have a final chance to release me or face my displeasure, Kordal. Those _shemlen_ you disdain so easily are my heart, and if you speak of them like that again I will show you yours.” 

“Elgar’nan take you, what _are_ you?” breathed the other elf, but Kordal only pulled his hand away with a scowl.

“No, he’s Fen’Harel’s get, I’d wager,” he muttered. “Fine, go! Go after your _shem_ lovers, and may they fuck that stiffness out of your arse until you can barely walk.” He got up and walked away with a growl.

“That’s the plan but they’ll be the ones getting fucked.” Fenris snarled as he made his way to where Invictus and Anders had stopped, frozen as they watched his altercation with the hunters. “Come, now.” he snapped. 

“I thought you were going to kill him,” breathed Anders.

“If he hadn’t let me go, I was about to.” Fenris said as he made his way to the aravel they’d been given. 

Anders ducked through the low doorway and glanced around inside. His feathered coat and worn linen shirt had been neatly folded and set to one side beside Fenris’ armour and Invictus’ gear. Small lanterns had been lit and hung from hooks around the low ceiling. 

Anders dropped onto a pile of cushions and started to unbuckle his boots, pulling them off with a tug before setting them to one side then reaching for the side laces of the leather vest.

“No, leave it on for now.” Fenris said as he pulled his tunic off and loosened the laces on his own leather pants, they were tight and uncomfortable, but he had no plan for them to remain on for much longer.

Anders paused then left the laces and instead laid himself back slowly against the cushions. “So... what did you have in mind?” he asked.

“You’re going to scream my name loud enough for those hunters to know just how much I enjoy you.” Fenris said as he took in how Anders looked, laid out across the cushions like another feast.

“Where does that leave me love?” Vic asked as he let his fingers tug at the laces of Fenris’ pants slightly.

“We’re both going to fuck him, maybe at the same time like he begged for that first night.” Fenris growled as he encouraged Invictus to strip him of the confining leather. 

Anders’ eyes widened slightly and his breathing quickened.

“Or you could fuck his mouth again and I could fuck him senseless. Makes it hard to scream if he’s got a mouthful of cock though.” Fenris moaned as he stepped out of the pants and tugged Vic down with him so they were each lying with Anders. “What does our wicked apostate want?”

Anders reached down and swiftly loosened the bandages around his around his knees then shoved the cloth into Invictus’ hands. “For rope,” he said.

Invictus smiled wickedly then had Anders cross his wrists before he wrapped them securely. “Is that alright? The vest stays on now you realize?” 

Anders flexed his wrists, testing the bonds, enjoying how tight they felt, the cloth biting into his skin when he tugged too hard. “It seems you have me at your mercy,” he said quietly. “Whatever shall I do?”

“What you’re told for starters.” Fenris said as he slipped a hand into Anders trousers, pleased to find him hard already. He growled filthy things in Tevene while he pulled the blond mage’s cock free and stroked him. 

Anders laid back against the cushions and groaned as he stretched his hands up above his head, arching up into the elf’s touch.

“Talk to us, tell us if you like it.” Fenris murmured as he stroked faster and nodded for Vic to strip the mages pants off him as well.

Once Anders was free of all but the vest, he crawled up and lapped at Anders cock, slowly tracing the veins before he took him into his mouth and moaned in pleasure.

Anders threw his head back and moaned. “Oh Maker... yes.... yes....” he breathed, beginning to pant.

Fenris claimed his mouth while Vic was busy with his cock, once he had to pull back to breathe, the elf got an idea. He straddled Anders mouth and arched an eyebrow in question. “Will you be alright if you ...suck me with your arms like that?”

Anders glanced up at his bound wrists, then back at the elf. “I think so,” he said.

“If it hurts, stop.” Fenris said before he gently tipped Anders head up and slipped his cock into his mouth. 

Anders flexed his tongue against Fenris’ cock, swirling it around the head before he bent his head forward a little to take more of the hard member into his mouth. It was harder at this angle; he couldn’t quite reach to take the whole length in. But he worked at the elf’s hot flesh with his mouth and tongue, sucking Fenris in, humming and moaning as Invictus worked his own flesh.

Fenris thrust shallowly until the motion made his back start to twinge so he pulled away reluctantly then slid down to join Invictus in swallowing Anders down. He glanced at the mage whose eyes were wide with surprise at the feel of two tongues on him, especially given how dominant Fenris usually acted in bed.

Anders writhed slowly beneath them, panting harder now in between small whimpers as the heat low down in his abdomen begin to build. “Maker... feels... this is....” He tried to fight the urge to snap his hips up to meet each downward stroke.

Vic pulled away first and helped Anders sit up so he could take his turn kissing the mage. “Not yet..we’re just starting. How about we reverse places from the other night? I fuck you first?” Vic rasped as he tweaked one of the other man’s nipples and nipped at his lips while he moaned lustily. 

Fenris had closed his eyes, his focus on making Anders feel good as he’d done for Vic earlier. 

Anders cried out, his body arching up into Invictus’ touch. “Maker, yes! Oh yes,” he begged, his body beginning to tremble beneath their combined ministrations as he came closer to climax. “Anything. Anything. Please.”

Fenris pulled away with a lewd pop and got a vial of oil from the small chest near their bed. “Careful, we might hold you to that.” he said as he positioned himself under Anders so he could resume his cock sucking, he was in the mood for it and at least one of them would benefit. 

Anders spread his legs and writhed, whimpering as Invictus continued to nibble and bite his lips, the fingers on Anders’ nipples almost painfully hard. “More,” begged Anders. “Oh Maker. Please. Fuck me.”

“You beg so well, I think I’ll oblige.” Vic said as he oiled his fingers and slipped two into Anders, he wasn’t in the mood for gentle nor did he think Anders was either. “Beg for it, say it Anders. I want to hear you say it again.” Vic added a third finger and pumped slowly as he held the vial of oil in his other hand at the ready. 

“Harder, please,” begged Anders as he pushed back into Invictus’ fingers. fucking himself on the mage’s hand. “Want you inside me. Fuck me hard. Please.”

Fenris stopped until he saw that Vic had oiled himself and slipped into Anders with a low, throaty moan about how tight the other mage was, then he went back to sucking their apostate off while his own hand slid down to his neglected cock. 

“Better?” Vic said as he tangled his fingers in Anders hair and yanked hard in time with his thrusts. “I bet Merrill wonders what we look like together now that you scandalized her.” Vic growled in his ear.

Anders cried out breathlessly with each thrust, his head yanked back painfully hard until tears came to his eyes as he quivered between the two men, dangerously close to his own peak as the other mage slammed hard into him, pounding into his willing body. 

“Want Fenris to take you too? Turn around and slide his cock into you? Stretch you wide open?” Vic moaned in his ear as he pounded Anders hard as he could, unsure if he’d come before he could make good on his words. 

Anders tried to nod but couldn’t move his head. “Yes,” he begged. 

“You heard the man love, turn around.”

Fenris let go of the cock in his mouth with a hiss and scooted around until he was face to face with Anders. “Perhaps you should ride me a bit then let Vic ease back into you?” he panted as Anders let his head fall to his chest.

Anders moaned. “Want... both of you,” he panted. “So close...”

Fenris grabbed the oil and slicked himself up before he nudged Anders to perch over him. “There, now just lower…oh fuck…” the elf moaned in pleasure as he felt Anders slide down on him. 

“Now...ah I see.” Vic went to his knees and waited for Anders to still before he tried to enter him again.

Anders held still as he felt Invictus’ slick cock nudge against his already stuffed entrance. He closed his eyes, willing his body to relax as he felt this new intrusion sliding slowly into his body, the mage going slowly as he gave Anders’ body a chance to adjust and stretch as he slid his cock into the incredibly tight hole, Fenris’ firm cock adding a whole different dimension of feeling to the experience.

Anders began to keen faintly as he felt himself stretched almost painfully wide, the slow steady invasion of his body being almost more than he could handle. He began to pant, each exhale a quiet “ _fuck - fuck - fuck_ ” as Invictus slid deeper until both men were fully seated deep inside him. He let his head drop as he breathed through the feeling of being stuffed fuller than he could remember feeling in a very long time.

Fenris wanted to scream at the sensation but he held his voice in check, instead moaning softly with each brush of Invictus against him while they were buried in Anders. “Maker...I’m not going to last long.” he huffed as he felt Vic pull back and slide back in alongside him slowly.

“Me neither” the Champion moaned as he nudged at Fenris to move. “You...need to ...move too.”

“Oh...ok.” Fenris gasped before he began to move along with Vic. “Ok Anders?” he rasped between shallow thrusts.

Anders threw his head back and cried out as he felt them both start to thrust into him in tandem. He cried out with each thrust, eyes closed, his own cock bobbing and leaking as each thrust pushed him closer and closer to the edge, his body trembling. He was too far gone for words.

Fenris’ eyes rolled back in his head and he started muttering in Tevene, Trade, even a few swears in Orlesian as he felt himself tensing under the two men. Soon he was calling out to Anders, Vic, the Maker...anyone as he started to come, spurting into his lover as he thrust wildly and deep. 

Anders screamed as he felt Fenris moving far faster than he was prepared for, and then as he felt Fenris’ seed spill deep inside him, hot and wet and burning slightly against his overtaxed muscles he came himself with a hoarse cry, shuddering, his voice tailing off into a panted litany of “No, no, no, no....”

Invictus hissed an answering litany of yeses into Anders ear as he spilled deep inside him as well before he stuttered and stopped moving. “What’s the matter, you ok?” Vic slurred against his back. 

“T-t-too much, too fast... please... no....” he whimpered, slumping forward in exhaustion.

“Sorry, want us to pull out?” Vic whispered.

“Yes...please.” Anders said hoarsely. “Gently... can’t....”

Fenris was still under them, his eyes closed and his breathing fast and shallow. He remained still as he felt Vic pull away gently, and grimaced at the wetness he felt trailing behind him. It was made worse when Vic helped Anders rise off him then lay to the side so he could untie him. Anders let Invictus move him wherever he wanted; he had no energy left, his body bruised and sore. He winced as the bandage was untied from his wrists, chafed red and sore where he’d struggled against his bonds without realising it. He managed to nod thanks, his movements jerky and unco-ordinated. His body felt hypersensitive, each gentle caress almost too much sensation, bordering on painful as overstimulated nerves fired all over his body.

Fenris rolled to his side and reached out for them. “Are you alright? Is that what you wanted...love?” he tried out the endearment hesitantly as he watched Anders slowly begin to relax under Vic’s touch, no longer flinching and twitching with small whimpers as his overloaded senses calmed down.

Anders drew a slow, shuddering breath. “I’m OK,” he finally managed. “It was more intense than I’d expected. I... wasn’t prepared.” He winced, his body feeling empty after being stretched and filled so full. He could feel both men’s seed still, both inside and coating the insides and backs of his thighs but was too ennervated to do anything about it or his own spend smeared across his abdomen. He was sore inside and utterly drained, unable to reach back out to Fenris to respond fully to the light touch of Invictus’ fingers across his skin. “Thank you,” he finally remembered to whisper as his head dropped limply to the cushions; consciousness fled soon after.

He was oblivious as Invictus rose after a short time to fetch water and cloths, not stirring as the other mage began to gently clean him up - not even when the mage very gently slipped two fingers into his bruised and sore entrance to channel a simple healing spell into the raw flesh and ease the inflammation and slight tearing their lovemaking had caused. Nor did he stir as a soft blanket was drawn up over him.

They had successfully worn him out. He slept deeply until morning, pressed between his two lovers; and if he dreamed, he did not remember it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris does a very, very bad thing and Arden is so beyond done it's frightening.

Fenris had woken up before Anders or Arden and was sitting in the study with a concoction of whiskey and strong tea as he looked out the window. Seeing Arden possessed, even briefly had unnerved him badly. He wondered if he was going to come out of this whole ordeal sane or if he was cracking up bit by bit. 

He smiled as he recalled the lovely dream he’d had featuring him with Anders. It had been passionate, loving and intense, even making him gasp and moan in his sleep. Fenris wondered idly if either of his lovers would be up for a tumble before they had to get to business once more. He sipped and pondered until he heard the study door open but heard no footsteps. “Hal?”

“You recognise me by my silence now.” There was a smile in the mage’s voice as he stepped into a patch of sunlight cast upon the study floor through the window. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well, but as usual I am an early riser even before them so I slipped away so I would not wake them. Did you sleep well?” Fenris smiled slightly between sips of his drink. He had a plate of bread and cheese as well but he hadn’t yet touched it.

Hal moved to the other chair opposite Fenris’ own and sat down, cradling a steaming mug of something in his hands; he some managed to look simultaneously both very young and yet also far older than his years, shadows beneath his eyes which held a faintly haunted look. “I slept, but it was... not as restful as your sleep I fear,” he said quietly. He toyed with the mug. “Arden’s dreams drew more demons last night.”

“What, how can you tell?” Fenris said worriedly. Hal sat back in his chair and sighed.

“Because I was in the Fade fighting them off,” he said quietly.

Fenris shuddered before he took another drink. “I salute you then, I ...the Fade has always been a space of terror for me.” he admitted quietly.

Hal took a sip of his tea. “Until recently, it was denied me; and now there is a part of me that knows the Fade far better than any mortal perhaps has any business knowing. I do not dream quite as I used to before I was made Tranquil; I close my eyes, and I am in the Fade, drawn to the dreams of others. Usually I merely observe at most, before moving on; but Arden’s dreams were drawing them around him, and I could not leave him to wrestle with them alone and unknowing - not so soon after being briefly possessed like that.”

He took another sip then stared at the sunshine beaming in through the window. “The other Hawke, Invictus, was also having bad dreams. It is strange, how the distance between their Kirkwall and ours means nothing in the Fade. His dreams are as bright and clear to me as Arden’s. His thread is sharp, the grey of cold steel and yet hot as fire.”

“What did he dream of I wonder, from what Arden said he’s pretty heartless.” Fenris reached over and took some cheese to nibble on, then inclined his head to indicate Hal could partake if he wished. 

“No, he has a heart, though he guards it well. He cannot hide it from one who can walk dreams though.” Hal took a piece of bread, eating it neatly with small fastidious bites before shaking crumbs from his robe. He glanced at Fenris. “Your thread is bright silver like lyrium, clean and clear. Arden is bright burning gold. And Anders... soft tawny gold, like the hair of his head.”

“It seems lyrium is to be my hallmark no matter what.” Fenris said bitterly. 

“Maybe,” said Hal. “It makes you easy to mark for those who have eyes to see. Though I wonder if anyone save perhaps Anders would understand.” He pondered thoughtfully. “Your thread is identical to that of your mirror-self in Invictus’ Kirkwall. As is Anders’, even though the Anders in that other Kirkwall is not joined with Justice anymore.” He considered whether he should tell Fenris of what he had been able to achieve with that other Anders’ soul-thread, allowing Invictus to see through the waking man’s eyes; then decided against it. 

“What is it like? to walk the Fade as you do, as someone who was cut off then given free reign in it once again? To someone like me it only holds fear and pain.” Fenris said as he reached for the small teapot so he could top off his mug. 

“You were never a mage. To mages, the Fade is a place familiar to us from infancy, though it is not until our powers first manifest that we learn not everyone visits the Fade every time they dream. How then can I describe it?” Hal leaned back, his eyes distant. “Imagine that everyone you ever knew has never played anywhere else than in small walled gardens, each alone, when you have played in the fields and woods, on the beaches and in the mountains, in all the wild places of the world, with all the denizens. And then one day someone takes you away, seals you up in a small stone cell, and says: Never more may you play. Not even the garden is permitted to you.” He dropped his eyes to his hands. “Not only was I denied the Fade, I was denied dreams themselves. And now, though the whole Fade is open to me, I do not see it with my own eyes as I once did. Now I am one of those denizens of the forest, I merely walk in mortal form through habit. I see things I know no mage ever dreams, I feel the Fade in the way only one who has dwelled there can know.” 

He lifted his eyes to Fenris. “You ask what it is like. I ask you: what is it like to be a slave and then one day to decide something for yourself without the word of a master?”

Fenris looked down and gathered his thoughts. After a while he looked to Hal and spoke quietly, almost as if his own words came as a surprise. “Terrifying, liberating, surprising. You expect someone to come along any moment to punish you for not following Master’s whims, or being perfect as he wishes. The realization you may do as you please is wonderful but frightening. Some days, I still...even with Danarius dead and gone, I react as a slave would.” 

Hal nodded. “It feels a little like that for me now, except it’s a templar I look for over my shoulder. I was taken to the Circle as a child, and although I have Endrin’s memories of growing up an apostate, I still find myself falling into old habits. Even those of the Tranquil sometimes. When I woke up this morning, I found I’d been sitting dressed on my bed for nearly half an hour when it suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t need to wait for someone to give me my duties for the day - that I could go back to bed if I so wanted, or choose something else to wear.” He dropped his eyes to the mug. “Or make myself a mug of tea and drink it wherever I wished.”

“It is difficult, to realize I did not have to follow orders, that I did not have to serve Arden as I would have Danarius. It...frightened him the first time I fell into calling him ser, and he screamed at me for it. I don’t know what shocked me more, him losing his temper or that he didn’t want to hear that from me ever again.” The elf gave a quirk of his lips as he cycled through memories of learning to live and love with Arden. “He’s helped me so much and I couldn’t keep him from a demon yesterday.” 

“And I went to pieces,” said Hal. “Anders was right. I should have thought of a spirit bolt myself.”

“Thankfully Anders was calm enough to think of it. I wasn’t much better, I tried to run screaming from the room at first.” Fenris huffed. 

“I think we both would if Anders hadn’t been blocking the way,” said Hal. “I’m... sorry I fainted. It was the first time Endrin ever took me over like that.”

“It’s alright, none of us were at their best I fear.” Fenris said as he took some bread and cheese to polish off. “I wonder if I’m going mad Hal.” 

“What makes you ask that?” asked Hal. “If you’re able to wonder then that makes the answer almost undoubtedly ‘no’, I’d say.” He reached for another piece of bread.

“All we’ve been through recently has me doubting my own mind, my own abilities lately. I’ve seen worse horrors than we’ve faced down over the last few weeks yet I often have nightmares, or find myself drifting off when the others aren’t looking, I even thought I was dreaming earlier when I was wide awake, all of this is preying on my mind and it’s making me doubt everything. We’ve faced worse yet this has instilled a lingering fear and doubt that I cannot shake.” Fenris said softly before he took a long swallow of his drink.

Hal shook his head. “To doubt yourself in light of all we’ve experienced lately seems only human to me. I would be more concerned were you to show no signs of being affected.” He smiled sympathetically. “We face a grave and terrible danger, one love was abducted and tortured, the other possessed briefly by a demon. You’re able to admit your own fears for your sanity in a fairly rational way. I think you’re doing fine.”

“Thank you. How are you doing with all of this, besides adjusting to feelings again?” Fenris asked as he debated adding more whiskey to his drink then set the mug aside. He was a drinker, but even he had limits.

“Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure,” said Hal quietly. “I don’t think I’ve entirely adjusted really to not being Tranquil any more. I feel like I’ve hit the ground running, and maybe at some point my brain will actually catch up to what’s going on. For someone whose whole life - both before the Rite and after - was one of routine, the complete lack and unpredictability of what happens next is very disturbing. Ask me again in a week perhaps.” He smiled, hesitantly.

“I will. I guess I should find something to eat besides bread and cheese, and not drink spiked tea again until later. I could do with a bath as well.” Fenris said randomly as he picked at the plate, unsure he wanted to move but he knew he wanted to do something.

Hal drained his mug. “As could I actually,” he remarked. “Orana sorted out some of Arden’s old outfits for me so I would have more than one change of clothes beside those hateful Chantry rags, which I’ve a mind to burn, but I should wash before I change.”

“I can start the bath going, I don’t care about sharing since I’ve never really had a chance to have privacy. It’s not like you would have either. No sense in wasting water either.” Fenris said before he pulled himself from the chair with a groan. Hal nodded and rose, gesturing for the elf to lead the way.

Fenris headed to the larger bathing chamber and set the water pumping, grateful as always for the dwarven plumbing that filled it with hot water instantly. Once the tub was full he pulled his sleep clothes off tiredly and rinsed off before he got into the tub. “Praise dwarven ingenuity.” he moaned indecently. 

Hal stripped off swiftly and unbraided his hair then washed up quickly before slipping into the water, wetting his hair before starting to wash the long blood-red tresses. His fingers slowed as his eyes took on a faint distracted look, his gaze drifting over to Fenris often. He shook himself and frowned slightly, then ducked under the water to rinse his hair.

“What’s wrong? Is that frown from you or from Endrin?” Fenris said quietly, his gaze steady on the red-headed mage. He recalled Arden’s mention of Endrin being with that Kirkwall’s Fenris during that trip to the Emporium.

“Endrin? Why would- No, there’s nothing wrong. Why would there be anything wrong?” asked Hal, a faint note of confusion in his voice as he swept the heavy mass of red hair back over his shoulder.

“Arden mentioned that when Endrin spoke of his Fenris, he was very sad, lonely.” Fenris said as he leaned forward a bit to take in Hal’s appearance. “I did not go with Arden but something in you...now that Endrin has joined with you is calling to me.” 

Hal’s eyes widened and he stilled in the water. “What do you mean, calling to you?” he asked in a hushed tone. His amber eyes were fixed on the elf; as Fenris watched, his tongue darted out nervously to lick his lips.

Fenris leaned in further and whispered to Hal. “I shouldn’t...but I really, really want you. I don’t know if its because you’re sort of a Hawke, or you’re just attractive, naked...here. But you’re calling to me.” the elf leaned in and kissed Hal gently, cradled his face between his hands and waited for Hal to take over or to push him away. He knew he was wrong but he was drawn to the other man in a way he couldn’t have explained. He just hoped for the best as his kiss was returned. 

Hal closed his eyes as he let the elf claim his mouth, his body responding in spite of itself. Or was it? He could feel Endrin inside; the spirit remembered his own Fenris, and he felt an urge to reach out and clutch the white-haired warrior to him and show him just how much he had missed and grieved for his elf.

Except this wasn’t his elf. This was a different Fenris; and even as Hal allowed the elf to draw him closer through the hot water and explore his mouth slowly, the red-haired mage felt torn inside. Part of him, the part that was Endrin, wanted to respond enthusiastically. Another part, that part that was Hal the mage, the youth who had never had a chance to discover this aspect of adulthood, who had been starved of physical affection since childhood, craved to feel the elf’s firm strong hands all over his body, teaching him how to discover for himself the joys of the flesh at the hands of another man.

And the part that had been broken by the templars, subjected to the Rite, whispered to submit and let the warrior do as he wished. _Be soft. Submissive. Compliant. It is easier. It will hurt less._

 _No,_ breathed the spirit, remembering many joyous unions with Fenris. _It doesn’t have to hurt._

Hal opened his eyes, a world of confusion in their lost gaze as he returned the kiss hesitantly, his body pliant beneath Fenris’ hands.

Fenris pulled back for air and to lean his forehead against Hal’s, the brand still there, reminding him of their situation. He glanced into the other man’s eyes and spoke quietly. “If I’m to be wrong, to do wrong, then it’s all or nothing. Will you allow this? I can’t explain this need but it’s there and I...if you do not wish this, I will not blame you. But...something in you, it might be Endrin’s need, desire for his lover, maybe because I am weak willed or just...I don’t know but I desire you. I will face them and admit my wrong doing, but let me know if you will continue or if I should go before I humiliate myself further by my actions.” 

“I... don’t know if I want this or not,” whispered Hal. “I’m confused. Endrin wants you, my... my body wants you. But I - Hal, me, the mage - I’ve never....”

“The templars hurt you didn’t they, you’ve never actually had a good experience with sex? Then will you allow me to show you it doesn’t have to be like that. I know too well what it’s like to be forced, I was a slave remember? Let me repay the favor that Arden paid me, he showed me how it could be good, be wonderful. I will not hurt you Hal, but if you’d rather not I understand.” Fenris spoke quietly, his hands still holding the other man’s face gently but not so firmly he couldn’t pull away if he wished. 

Hal knew intellectually he could just say no. But as he closed his eyes, he heard his own voice speaking.

“Do with me as you wish.”

“No...I will have your consent and this will be mutual. If you do not wish to lie with me, you will tell me so. That is too much what I sounded like as a slave Hal. If you wish to be with me, I will have your yes, not the yes of a slave or a Tranquil. I will pleasure you, make you feel more than just physical release. I do not know if I will have the nerve to do this later if you say no, but again I will understand. I am so wrong in this but ...I can’t find it in me to refuse my want, my desire for you.” Fenris smiled and leaned back so Hal could think without him pressed so close to him. 

He couldn’t speak. It were as though he were helpless inside his own body as he felt his eyes open and fix upon Fenris, felt the muscles of his face pull his lips into a welcoming smile. “Yes. I consent, Fenris. I want to surrender to you.”

“Thank you, come let’s go to your room so you can be comfortable.” Fenris leaned in and kissed him again before he stepped out of the tub and toweled off enough to put on his clothes and wait for Hal to lead them to the room he’d been given. He prayed that Arden and Anders would forgive him...eventually for the transgression he was about to commit but Maker take him, he couldn’t explain the sudden draw to Hal but he was hungry for the red-head. 

Hal stepped from the tub, wringing out his long hair before towelling off then tying a towel around his waist and leading the way back to his room. Once inside, he stripped off the towel and stood naked before Fenris.

“What would you have me do?” he asked shyly.

“Explore to your hearts content, let me please you Hal. I meant what I said, I wish to show you how good it can be, not merely shag you and return to my room as if nothing happened.” Fenris pulled his clothes off and pulled the taller man down for another slow kiss as he placed Hal’s hands on him to encourage him to participate more. 

Hal let his hands explore the elf’s skin with featherlight touches, his fingers instinctively avoiding the lines of lyrium even as he felt Endrin close under the surface, felt him in the surge of power behind his eyes as they lightened in colour to a radiant gold, heard him in the whispering memories of other hands stroking over the elf’s body - at once so new and different and yet familiar. Wanted.

“Touch me,” he breathed, wanting to feel those sword-calloused hands moving over his own skin, holding him down, possessing him physically.

Fenris obliged, stroking over the mage’s chest, a pleased rumble escaping him as he let his nails scratch at the lithe body, drag down his abdomen as he dropped gracefully to his knees and found himself level with the other man’s cock, he looked up to find the change in Hal’s eyes but it didn’t bother him. He slept with a possesed mage already, what was a small thing like his eyes changing colour. Instead he held the other man’s gaze as he opened his mouth to take him in slowly, deliberately swallowing him down in inches, each bit drawing a moan from him.

Hal’s eyes widened as Endrin mercifully receded enough from his mind to let him have this experience of his own, untinted by the spirit’s memory of his own years of mortality. The red-head gasped, his hands flying unthinkingly to the soft white hair as he was slowly drawn into Fenris’ mouth. He tried to speak but no words would come, only a trembling moan as his knees threatened to buckle. 

Fenris bobbed his head quickly, his moans soft in the sunlit room. He pulled away when he felt Hal shaking just a bit and stood. “Come, let’s get you sat down before you fall down.” he said as he led the mage to bed and urged him to sit on the edge, and he resumed his cock sucking, eager to pleasure the other man even as his conscience was nagging him about how much trouble he was to be in. 

Hal moaned as he was drawn in again, his hands resting lightly on Fenris’ head. This was all new and a little overwhelming. The templars had never cared for his own pleasure when they came to him; and as Endrin withdrew he had nothing to compare the experience to. He bit his lip with a whimper. Part of him - the scared, frightened Circle mage - wanted to beg the elf to stop, afraid of what would happen when Arden found out, much less Anders. The other parts of him wanted to urge the elf on more, faster, harder. To take him.

He lay back on the bed as his body quivered beneath Fenris’ expert ministrations, little faint cries escaping his lips as his body crested slowly toward orgasm.

The elf pulled away finally, his lips red and swollen as he felt how the other man’s cock started to thicken in his mouth. “Do you wish to take me?” he said hoarsely, his eyes intense as he kept his hands on the other man’s thighs, afraid he would come the moment he touched himself. “It’s rare I feel the urge for it, but...I would have you take me if you wish.” 

Hal managed to shake his head. After a moment he found himself able to speak. “No experience... wouldn’t know how,” he panted. “I’m afraid I might hurt you by mistake. Would you... please... I’d rather you took me.”

“As you wish, Hal.” Fenris said as he looked around the room, and swore softly. “Ah...can you...grease spell.” he mumbled as he climbed to the bed and wrapped Hal’s long legs around his waist. He nipped at the mage’s thick calves as he started to rut against him out of need, as he waited. “Would your spirit have such knowledge?” he asked suddenly, his voice a low rasp as he gazed at Hal, took in his flushed skin, hard, thick cock still slick from his mouth. “Really...want you...in me” he said softly. 

Hal’s eyes blazed gold briefly, and then there was the pull of magic at Fenris’ brands as the red-head’s palm filled with a clear oily liquid.

Fenris took some of it and stared at Hal with a look of longing. “You’re sure you don’t want…” he said almost in a whine. “I’m sorry, I’m being selfish.” he said quickly before he spread the other man’s legs and slipped a slick finger into him slowly, easing in to the knuckle and watching him for signs of discomfort.

Hal stiffened briefly at the sudden intrusion then deliberately relaxed himself as the elf’s finger slowly eased into his body. He breathed through his nose, threading his fingers into the coverlet of the bed, then breathed out with a trembling sigh as he felt the finger probe deeper. As it gently brushed his sweet spot his back arched and his eyes opened wide, mouth forming a perfect soundless “o”.

Fenris smiled as he added another finger and moved faster, his gaze focused on Hal and his pleasure. “Ready for me?” he asked softly as he leaned down to take Hal in his mouth briefly, hopeful the sensation would help him relax. 

Hal groaned. “Please... please....” he panted.

Fenris withdrew his fingers and took the remainder of the slick from Hal’s hand to prepare himself. He linked his free hand with the mages as he entered him, his voice dropping to a low growl as he felt how tight he was gripped. “Maker, oh Maker…” he moaned. as he pulled back slowly and slid back in. “Tell me when I can… go… faster.” he hissed. 

Hal was panting out, a steady, breathy litany of “oh, oh, oh” as he felt Fenris sink fully into him. He’d been taken by templars before but this was completely different. It was tight, he felt full, but it didn’t hurt. “More,” he begged as his body shivered.

The elf thrust faster, his hips snapping hard against Hal as he let himself give in to the urge to make him feel good, to make him climax from pleasure rather than pain. “Please…” he gasped, unsure what he was asking for as he felt his own orgasm creeping up on him far too soon. “Hal...Maker...so…” his words dropped off for panting as he fucked the other man long and hard in an effort to make him come. 

Hal cried out as he felt himself coming closer and closer to the edge. He canted his hips as he bucked back to meet each thrust until Fenris was hitting his sweet spot with every downstroke. He cried out hoarsely as he finally came, his body clenching tight around the elf as his seed spilled over his belly and his head dropped back onto the bed.

Fenris followed suit with a few more short strokes, his orgasm heralded with a moan and a plea in Tevene as he filled the other man. He opened his eyes to find them blurry with tears as he pulled back and out of Hal gently then flopped to his side and covered his face so he could hide from the mage’s gaze. 

Hal blinked as he rolled his head on the coverlet to stare at the elf. “Fenris?” he panted.

The elf sniffed and dropped his hands away. “I’m sorry… it was ...good, so good and I...I’m confused. It wasn’t you, please don’t think that. I’m just a mess, and confused but I feel so fucking good right now. Did I please you?” he said softly as he held himself up over Hal and looked him over. 

Hal nodded. “It was... No-one has ever make me feel like that before,” he said quietly. “You were gentle with me. It was good.” he lifted his hand to lightly stroke down the side of Fenris’ face. “I knew from Endrin’s memories that it could be wonderful, but I’d never experienced it for myself.” He smiled slightly. “Endrin backed off so I could have the experience untainted by his own experiences. You are my first.”

“I’m glad I could give you such an experience. I hope it is the first of many for you.” Fenris said softly before he dipped his head down again, close enough to kiss him. “May I have a final kiss? I do not know if we will have the opportunity to do this again and as it is, I fear what they will do to me if they find out. Anders and Arden can be terrifying in their own right. Would you think me a coward if I did not confess my sin to them, keep this between us?” 

Hal’s eyes were soft and slightly unfocused, his smile dreamy. “Whatever you wish,” he said quietly. “You have given me a wonderful gift.”

“I’m glad I could do so. I will take whatever wrath come should they discover my deception.” Fenris leaned in and kissed him slowly, gently for a while before he pulled away with regret. “I should go.” Fenris slipped from the bed and washed up then dressed slowly, his motions jerky and clumsier than usual. He slipped from the room with a pang of regret and went to the bathing chamber to clean it up, and wash again with hot water before he went to the kitchen for breakfast. He ate but it felt like sawdust in his mouth, his gaze was unfocused as he made another cup of tea and returned to the study, this time to hide in shame for what he’d done. 

**

Anders rolled over then opened his eyes slowly as his outstretched hand encountered an empty space where Fenris should have been. He lifted his head and looked round; Arden was still out for the count.

The mage sat up and brushed his hair out of his eyes then sat playing thoughtfully with the gold hoop in one ear before swinging his long legs out of bed and rising. He grabbed one of Arden’s house-robes then visited the privy before heading to the bath chamber. He noticed the wet footprints on the floor; he noticed that two people seemed to have been in there that morning already. Someone was an early riser beside Fenris, it seemed. As he set the tub filling, he plucked a long red hair out of the plug hole and raised an eyebrow.

He turned away and stripped out of the house-robe, whistling to himself as he fetched a towel and one of the bars of herbal soap he preferred before untying the thong in his hair - not that it was holding much more than about half his hair; he must have been very restless in his sleep. His earlier dreams had been nightmares, memories of the torment the magister putting him through revisiting him again, though the later dream with Fenris had been nice.

Very nice, he amended, as he felt a certain part of his body stirring with interest again.

He slipped into the hot water and took himself in hand, closing his eyes as he laid back and thought about his dream; he came with a shuddering gasp, Fenris’ name on his lips. He took a few moments to gather his wits before briskly washing himself then stepping out and setting the tub to drain.

Donning the house-robe once more, Anders went in search of Fenris, wondering what had had the elf stirring awake so early. The kitchen was empty apart from Orana, who promised breakfast would be ready shortly and gave him a hot spiced bun fresh from the oven to tide him over with his mug of tea. He nodded his thanks and took bun and tea with him up to the study, deciding to get a little writing in before breakfast.

He paused in the doorway when he spotted Fenris, and then he smiled happily. “There you are, love!” he grinned, making his way over to the elf and depositing a kiss on the top of Fenris’ head before settling into another chair and taking a bite of his bun. “I was wondering where you’d got to,” he added after he’d swallowed his mouthful before taking a sip of his tea.

“Couldn’t sleep anymore.” Fenris mumbled from his perch in the chair. He’d fought not to jump when he heard Anders voice or when he felt his gentle kiss on his head. His guilt was eating at him and it showed in how he held himself in the chair. “Did you rest well?” he asked, his gaze on the fire as he sipped his own drink.

“Very well,” replied Anders cheerfully. “I had the most fantastic dream. A certain white-haired elf was in it.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the elf.

“Do tell.” Fenris said quietly, his gaze briefly flickering to Anders then back to the fire. “I hope it was a nice dream.” 

“ _Very_ nice,” said Anders. I was floating in this wonderful warm pool in the garden of your old mansion, and there were flowers in the water, and then you came up behind me and turned me around and you were doing the most delicious things to me. I woke up quite... invigorated.” Anders gave him a wicked grin.

“Really...maybe we could find time to go and make that happen. Or perhaps in the master bath sometime.” Fenris said then mentally winced as he thought about Hal and how his morning had gone. 

“As long as we remind Hal to clean his hairs out of the plughole first,” chuckled Anders. “I found a long red hair in there earlier that could only have come from his head.”

“Really… imagine that, guess it comes with having long hair, leaving it everywhere right?” Fenris said with a strange hitch to his voice and a moment of panic about any of the mages hair that might have gotten tangled with his, had he missed something when he’d washed up afterward. He fought the urge to run his hands through his own hair in front of his lover. 

“Makes a change to be able to identify random strange hairs; I can never tell the difference between mine and Arden’s - same length, almost the same shade of blond. And yours is so short I rarely notice stray hairs,” mused Anders as he sipped his tea. “You must have run into him this morning - I noticed you’d both used the bathing room before me.”

“Yes, he was on his way in when I was on my way out.” Fenris said quietly and prayed his voice hadn’t shaken. He was on the verge of just falling to his knees and confessing even after he’d asked Hal if he’d keep their secret. 

“Mmm, shame I missed him, he strikes me as very easy on the eyes, if a bit young for me,” smiled Anders. “Though I’d probably be more distracted by a certain elf sitting not so far away from me.”

Fenris whined so low Anders wouldn’t have heard it. “Yes...easy, very easy on the eyes I’m sure.” Fenris mumbled without realizing it. He shifted in the chair, uneasy with how Anders words were affecting him. He hated himself as he sat there, knowing what he’d done but terrified of them finding out.

Anders sipped his tea slowly. “You know, I’ve half a mind to drag you in there and have you bend me over in that tub right now, if it weren’t for the fact that we really ought to be waking Arden up and getting ready to go talk to Merrill.” He sighed.

“Yes, Merrill, Sundermount, really we should get ready.” Fenris said hoarsely as he tried to stand and stumbled as the leg he’d been sitting on nearly gave way as feeling flooded back into it. “Maker dammit, son of a bitch.” he hissed as he rubbed his thigh to get the circulation going. He looked at Anders and smiled. “I could take care of you to tide you over until later?” Fenris offered even as he was terrified Anders was going to pick up on his anxiety.

Anders’ eyes darkened as he stared at the elf. “You could take me right over the desk,” he suggested. “Maker knows when we’ll get the chance again.”

“If that’s what you want...unless you’d… want to take me for a change?” Fenris offered from where he was bent over and face to face with his lover. 

Anders stilled, his face changing slightly. “Are you alright love?” he asked quietly. “You never ask to be taken. You’ve always been quite dominant around Arden and I. It’s always been this big thing - how you won’t let yourself be topped by a mage. Has... something happened?”

“N...no. I just thought it would be nice for a change, you seem to be really eager. I’ve ridden you before, it’s not much different right? Nothing has happened love.” Fenris said as he sunk to his knees before Anders and looked up at him. “I just ...can’t I change my mind?” he asked.

“You’re sweating,” said Anders quietly. “There’s something about your eyes... Fenris, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, why must something be wrong Anders? Nothing is wrong.” Fenris said as he stared at Anders in the hopes he dropped his line of questioning. “I just… I just want to try this, why not take advantage while I’m in the mood to try it out? I might hate it for all I know, but I want this please love.”

“It’s me, isn’t it?” said Anders quietly. “You’re afraid maybe I’ll freak out or something, have a flashback if I let you take me. But I’m OK, Fenris, trust me; you’re not a templar - you feel totally different, and I’ll be fine. Please, love - trust me to know my own limits.”

“Yes…I don’t want to hurt you, I already broke things before I don’t want you to have a bad association with me. Only if you’re sure, I just...I’m afraid.” Fenris said, his gaze dropping to the floor and his heart hammering in his chest as he knelt in contrition yet he could not bring himself to speak of his betrayal.

Anders slumped back with a sigh. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” he said quietly. “Maybe it’s too soon for all of us. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have teased you like that love. I just... woke up feeling good for once. After the past week, it was just a relief. I shouldn’t have taken it any further though.”

“I shouldn’t have second guessed you Anders, you know yourself and your limits. I’m willing if you still want to, I’m sorry, so sorry I made you worry.” Fenris said as he looked up to his lover, guilt making his eyes well up but still he could not speak the truth.

“It’s alright, love. As it happens, that last lot were more intent on their blasted experiments than... anything like that. Maybe the Imperial chantry just does things differently,” he reflected, one hand absently slipping inside the front of his house-robe to rub over the new scars across his chest. “I’m sorry, I think I’ve lost the mood a little now, love.”

Fenris wiped at his face and stood up. “It’s ok, I’m just going to go wake Arden up and then dress so we can go.” he kissed Anders on the cheek and gathered their cups. 

Anders nodded. “I’ll go wake Hal,” he said. “Orana should have breakfast ready soon. I think she’s making some sort of oatmeal with fruit for me, something I should be able to manage without overstressing my stomach.”

“Alright.” Fenris said before he escaped from the room and got himself together before he fell apart in the hallway. He didn’t think it was possible to hate himself any more than he already did but he was going to try. 

Anders head down the hall to the guest room where Bodahn had moved the red-headed mage. He lifted a hand to knock on the door but it was already slightly ajar. Shrugging, Anders pushed the door open and stepped into the room, glancing round.

The first thing he noticed was a definite musky smell in the air, the undeniable scent of sex. He blinked and stared at the sleeping mage sprawled naked on his back across the bed, the covers rucked up beneath him.

 _No. he couldn’t have...._ Anders crept closer to the sleeping figure and stared down at him. He studied the sleeping mage in silence, then paused as he turned to leave the room as something caught his eye. he bent down and gently tugged free a single white hair that was caught in Hal’s hand.

Anders stared at it for long moments, remembering two sets of wet footprints in the bathing chamber. A red hair caught in the plug hole.

He went in search of Fenris.

Fenris had woken Arden then set off to the kitchen to put some supplies in his pack. He had just filled a canteen with water when he heard the sound of boots behind him and flinched at the way his voice was called. Anders’ voice was quiet but held a faint tremble. As the mage appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, he paused.

Wordlessly he held up his right hand, the single white hair wound around two fingers.

Fenris looked at his hand then at Anders face then back at his hand. “It’s some of my hair. Why...are you showing me that?” he said softly as he tried to keep himself from freaking out.

Anders blinked. “Don’t do this,” he whispered hoarsely. “Don’t make me drag it out of you.”

Fenris slumped and hung his head. “I’m sorry...I’m so sorry.” the elf couldn’t make himself look up, see the rage and hurt he was sure was in the other man’s amber eyes.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” asked Anders in a small voice filled with confused hurt.

“Just tell you?” Fenris said in shock. ”Just tell you I broke your trust and Arden’s? I...I…” Fenris broke off and slumped to the floor, he wrapped his arms around his middle and fought the urge to throw himself at Anders and beg. 

“You broke our trust - well, mine - by not being honest with me, love,” said Anders as he stared at the elf. “It’s not the sex that bothers me - it’s that you didn’t feel you could be honest with me that it had happened. That’s what hurts the most right now, love. That you didn’t trust _me_.”

“I...slept with someone else and it’s not a problem? How is that not a problem? I wanted to tell you, I nearly broke earlier. I ...oh Maker, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Fenris started to rock and sob as he knelt there. “Please forgive me, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t, don’t-” protested Anders as he hastened to the elf and pulled him up off his knees. “Don’t do this love, please - not so soon after - please, don’t!”

“I don’t understand...why aren’t you angry I slept with him? Why are you angry that I didn’t tell? I don’t understand. It’s never just sex, I wronged you and Arden, in our home. It’s never...just sex.” Fenris said brokenly as he sagged in Anders’ grip.

“I don’t care about the sex,” disagreed Anders, shaking his head. “It hurts that something like this would happen and you not tell me. If I can’t trust you to be honest about something like this love, I’m going to find myself wondering what else might you not be telling me - and that way lies madness.” He shook his head despairing. “I don’t understand why you would do this to me. To us. To all of us.”

“How was I supposed to tell you? Just walk in and say morning love, by the way I fucked our guest because I couldn’t control myself?” Fenris said almost hysterically. He was finding it hard to breathe, to stay upright even with Anders holding him.

Anders held the white hair up in front of Fenris. “And this is better how?” he whispered.

“It’s not, Maker help me it’s not. I’m sorry, I’m sorry… please.” Fenris gasped as he felt himself slipping down once more to his knees and his vision going dark around the edges.

“Oh no. No, you are not doing this,” growled Anders as he bodily hauled the elf over to the nearest kitchen chair and pushed him down into it then with one hand on the back of the elf’s neck he pushed Fenris’ head down between his knees. “Deep breaths. In, hold, breathe out. You’re hyperventilating and you need to stop it. That’s it, deep breath.”

Fenris stayed down, if he kept looking down he wouldn’t have to face what he’d done. Even when his breathing evened out, he kept his head down as he waited for the blond’s wrath to finally come out.

Anders turned away from the elf, bracing his hands against a counter top as he bowed his head and tried to sort through the storm of emotions he was experiencing. Hurt, betrayal, confusion, fear; he felt all of these things. Hurt that this could happen, so soon after they’d barely mended the bridges broken in their recent fight just before his ill adventure with the magebane; he thought they’d moved passed that, particularly after Fenris came after him to rescue him. Betrayal - that Fenris thought so little of their love that he would throw it away with a handful of lies and deceit. Confusion as to why the elf felt the need to dissemble at all. And fear; fear that this would drive another wedge between them that this time might not heal.

He bit his lip as he felt the splash of a tear upon the back of his hand, his shoulders trembling silently.

Fenris sat up when he felt Anders' hand move from his neck and turned to see the mage was at the sink, his body trembling. He got up and went over, his voice soft, his position contrite as he begged him to look at him. 

“Anders...I will do anything, anything you say, you can...you do whatever you want to me. I’m sorry I broke your trust, I’m sorry I did this, I’m sorry I am unworthy of you and Arden. Please, allow me to make it up in any way you deem fit.” Fenris dropped to his knees in supplication and continued to beg forgiveness.

Anders turned and stared down at the elf, his eyes red-rimmed and his cheeks wet. His eyes widened a little and then he shook his head wildly. “N-no. Get up. Get _up_!!” he begged. “Don’t do this to me now. Stop it, _please_. You’re making it all so much worse!”

“Then what can I do to earn your forgiveness?” Fenris said brokenly as he rose but kept his head bowed and his gaze to the floor. 

“N-not like this,” said Anders as he pressed his back against the sink, bracing himself with his hands, his breathing ragged.

“Then what, what can I do? Name it and it’s yours.” Fenris finally looked up and let Anders see the distress and pain in his emerald eyes.

“I don’t know!” cried Anders as he buried his face in his hands.

“What in the name of Andraste’s flaming arsehole is going on here?” asked Arden as he strode in with a face like thunder. He took one glance at Anders then swiftly crossed the kitchen, pulling the other mage into his arms as he glared at Fenris. “What did you say to him to reduce him to this, after all he’s been through? Have you no heart?”

Fenris shook his head and held on to the counter so he wouldn’t fall down again. “I broke his trust and yours. He found what I’d done...and my attempt to beg forgiveness has gotten us here.”

“What _have_ you done?” asked Arden, incredulous.

“I...I slept with Hal.” Fenris said miserably. 

“You did what.” Arden’s voice was flat.

“I...slept with Hal.” Fenris repeated then clutched at his chest as if he was going to pull his own heart free. “It’s my fault, please don’t be angry with him.”

“I’m not,” said Arden, his voice dangerously quiet. “You, however....” His eyes narrowed. “We still need you, at least until we’ve dealt with these bloody mirrors. We are going to Sundermount and you are going to come with us. But after that....”

“I will leave as you command Arden.” Fenris said then slumped to the table and broke down.

“Enough of that,” said Arden in a tone of disgust. “It’s Anders and I that have been wronged here; you have no right to act the victim. Pull yourself together and pack. We leave in an hour.” He stalked from the kitchen, his arm around a still-weeping Anders.

Fenris finished packing and slumped on the bench by the door, his gaze broken and tears falling with no effort to stop them. He knew he was wrong, and there was no going back now. The elf just hoped they wouldn’t take it out on Hal when they returned from the Dalish.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arden is being a dick, Flemeth giveth and taketh away and Invictus and Fenris enjoy more Dalish hospitality before they have to leave for the city.

Vic opened his eyes with a wince at how sore he felt after their energetic night. He sat up to find Fenris had sprawled on his back in between them, snoring softly as he slept peacefully between his lovers. Anders had turned to his stomach, one arm stretched out and the other under a nearby cushion. The Champion took the time to enjoy watching them sleep before he found pants and crept out in the pre-dawn to find a nearby bush. 

He returned and slipped into the slot between the elf and mage, one leg thrown over Fenris and his back touching Anders as he tugged a thin sheet over them and closed his eyes to traverse the Fade once more. His last thoughts were of the pleasant night they’d had and a hope for more when they all had come around. The Champion’s next thoughts were wondering why he was so warm, and sweaty when he’d fallen asleep naked and covered only in a thin sheet.

He found his answer when he opened his eyes and found Fenris had curled up on his chest and was nuzzling at him slowly, his eyes half open as he regarded his lover. “Morning, you’re awful affectionate.” Vic rumbled at him before he turned to kiss Fenris.

“I’m feeling good, we had a nice night and I slept well with you both next to me. Why shouldn’t I be affectionate? Besides I tried Anders and he’s out like a snuffed candle.” Fenris all but purred in Vic’s ear before he sat up and stretched his arms over his head. “Let’s find that hot spring and wash up then maybe our sleepy apostate will be up and we can get breakfast.” 

“From how he’s snoring and the fact he hasn’t moved in almost ten hours, I think we’ll have to rouse him after our bath.” Fenris kissed Vic nice and slow before he pulled away and stood up. “Where are my pants?” 

“Where you threw them across the aravel.” Invictus pointed to where they were hanging from a crossbeam and snickered. “I know you wanted out of them badly but you should keep them, I like how you look in them.”

“Merrill did say we could keep them.” Fenris said softly before he tugged the tight leather on over his ass and gave Invictus a saucy look. “Catch me.” he said before he darted out of the aravel and towards the springs.

“Maybe we should shag each other stupid every night if it puts him in that good of a mood the next day.” Vic said before he dashed out and caught up to Fenris at the spring, a devious smirk on his face.

“You seem to have caught me messere Hawke, whatever will I do?” Fenris said with a grin as he unlaced the pants and peeled them off. “Maybe if I get into the water he won’t chase me anymore.” the elf said before he jumped in and dived deep into the spring.

“You are something else.” Vic mumbled as he tugged off his clothes and jumped in after his lover. They enjoyed a bit of a tussle underwater until they both needed air and broke the surface to find Merrill about to slide into the water on the other side. 

“Morning Merrill.” Hawke called so she wouldn’t be alarmed at finding them in the water as well.

The Dalish woman froze and let out a noise of surprise. “Hawke, Fenris...I’m surprised you’re up already. I…” she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run and hide or keep staring down into the clear water at both men. 

“Oh get in, it’s not as if you’re shy. We’ve bathed together on the Coast before.” Fenris said before he dipped below the surface again.

“I guess it’s silly to run away, after all you’ve seen me.” Merrill said nervously as she got in and swam around for a bit to enjoy the hot water and the sights. Fenris popped up behind Hawke and trailed his fingers over his chest with a smirk. “She’s getting a good look.” he whispered in Tevene.

“So, I’ve no shame in my looks.” he replied before he leaned in and kissed Fenris. “Might as well give her something to see.” 

“Terrible.” Fenris muttered before he swam off for a couple more laps before he actually bathed and got out. He surfaced again to see Merrill was standing in front of Hawke and chattering while her hands kept fluttering near his chest.

Hawke was laughing as she touched his chest then pulled her hand away as if he was a bear, not a man. “Merrill, it’s just hair.” 

“I know but Creators, I’m just not used to that much of it.” She glanced over to where Fenris was swimming towards them. “I’d better stop, Fenris will be angry at me touching you. I’ll see you in camp Hawke.” she kicked off and swam to the other side of the pool so she could dry off and shrug on a tunic before she headed back to her aravel.

Fenris wrapped his arms around his lover and gave him a grin. “Scaring her with your big hairy chest love?” 

“No...she was just fascinated is all. I don’t like women like that you know.” Hawke said as he leaned down to kiss the elf’s forehead.

“Actually I thought you did, that you liked both. Not that I expect you to suddenly lust after the next woman you see. Come, we should dry off and check on Anders.” Fenris kissed him again then swam off to the area where the towels were and dried off.

“You …are something else my heart.” Vic murmured before joining his lover. Once they were dressed, the returned to the tent to rouse Anders and eat so they could be on their way. 

Fenris nudged at the mage, and even whispered in his ear to get him to come around. “Time for you to rise and shine.” 

Anders didn’t stir immediately, but when Fenris darted out a pink tongue and traced it around the shell of his ear his brow creased slightly and his eyelids flickered briefly as he made a faint noise in the back of his throat, almost but not quite a protest. His eyes slowly opened, the liquid amber eyes unfocused at first until their gaze fixed on the elf. A slow grin spread across his face. “You’re a sight to wake up to, love,” he said drowsily, voice still thick with sleep.

“Am I really?” Fenris purred.

“Mmm,” murmured Anders. He closed his eyes and stretched, slowly and languidly, before rolling onto his side and staring at Fenris. “What time is it? I feel like I’ve slept for hours.”

“You have, we’ve been up, bathed and returned while you lazed away the morning.” 

“I guess I needed the rest,” mused Anders as he sat up, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes and tucking it behind his ear as he glanced around. “Any chance of breakfast, or did I sleep through that as well?”

“No, we were trying to rouse you to eat with us.” Vic said as he tugged on his armor. 

Fenris laughed as he changed into his own gear and folded the leather pants and linen shirt to put into his pack. “I hope I can get through breakfast if you are wearing that vest home.” He leered at Anders as he watched his new lover rise and stretch the kinks from his back.

Anders looked down at the vest. “It’s... very... um.” He ran his fingers lightly over the tooling, then began unlacing it. “I think I’d better go wash before I get dressed,” he said. He’d slept in his clothes before, but never a skintight leather vest and right now he was feeling a little uncomfortable. He took a deep breath as he slipped it off, then grabbed his pants and a towel and with a brief grin to Fenris he ducked through the low door of the caravel and made his way to the bathing pool.

“I just hope no one decides to try and test out the big blond shem while he’s alone. I don’t want to kill anyone today.” Fenris said as he watched the flap close behind Anders.

“He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. Come on, let’s pack up and be ready to go once he’s back.” Vic smiled as he puttered around the Aravel and then pulled Fenris into his lap and held him close as they waited for Anders to return.

Anders reappeared a little later, hair soaked and eyes wide. “Maker!” he exclaimed as he ducked under the beaded curtain then dived into the pile of cushions, trying to bury himself in the heap. “Save me!”

Fenris sat up and growled as his brands flashed. “Who is going to lose their hands, I want names.” 

“Three girls,” Anders replied, his voice muffled by the cushions. “They surrounded me in the pool and they - they _groped_ me!”

“Three elven girls?” Fenris said as he let his brands die down. “Why…?”

“They said they wanted to see if I was in proportion all over!”

That set Invictus to giggling and rolling on his side. Fenris covered his mouth but schooled his expression when he saw how distraught Anders was. 

“Did you ask them to stop groping you?” the elf said as he crossed over and held the mage close. 

Anders shook his head, shame-faced. “No. I was taken by surprise. I wasn’t exactly expecting to get molested when having a morning swim.”

“I’m sorry, do you want me to go yell at them?” Fenris said seriously. He turned and gestured to Invictus to stop laughing at Anders’ distress.

Anders shook his head and sighed. “No, I guess they just don’t see humans very often and naked ones even less. It’s just been a very long time since someone treated me like a... a piece of meat like that.” He glanced at Invictus. “Can we go home soon?”

“Yes, let’s get something to eat and head home with Merrill. We’ve got work to do after all.” Invictus said as he snagged Anders staff to hand to him. 

“Let’s just hope Kordal is nowhere to be found. Who knows what wild tales he’s told of Fen’harel’s get since last night.” Fenris muttered as he slung his scabbard and pack over his shoulder.

Anders dressed hurriedly, slinging his staff on his back before fingering the linen shirt and leather vest in indecision.

“Take it with you, if you don’t wish to wear it now.” Fenris said with a smile. “We can play more later.” he rumbled with a wolfish grin.

“Sure you aren’t Fen’Harel’s get with the way you keep staring at Anders like he’s a meal to be savored?” Vic teased. Anders glanced up at mention of his name, his gaze flicking from Invictus to Fenris as he stuffed the clothes into his pack.

“Only meal I’m interested in right now is breakfast,” he said hurriedly. “I’m starving.”

“Understood.” Fenris said softly as he headed out of the tent and towards the main cooking fires. Anders glanced at Invictus. “Is he... alright? He keeps staring at me...”

“He’s fine far as I know. Why?” Vic asked as they headed off. Anders shrugged.

“He’s being rather... overprotective, and his gaze is somewhat intense. It’s not something I’m used to is all.”

“You know he’s like a wolf, much as he hates it, his name is apt. He’s ...like that. But if it bothers you, tell him.” Vic said softly.

“It just takes a bit of getting used to,” said Anders, giving Invictus a small smile. “It’s kind of flattering in a way - that he cares enough to be that overprotective. Back in the Circle... well, there was a kind of unwritten rule; you didn’t get involved beyond a superficial level. If you tried to claim someone - well, that was just another thing the templars could take away from you. In the Wardens we were just too damned busy trying to survive to form anything longterm and meaningful, and I’ve just been too busy and driven since then. So this is all very new and different to me. I think I like it so far though.” He gave another grin.

“Alright but if it is ever too much just say so. It’s a sign he cares for you too.” Vic bussed him on the cheek then went over to Fenris so they could eat together.

Anders was aware of pointing and whispering going on amongst the elves as he tucked into his food with his usual gusto but ignored it. “So... we go back to Kirkwall and, what - try and call up this Endrin in Merrill’s Eluvian first?”

“Yes, we might as well, then stop at home for dinner and then first thing tomorrow go to the Black Emporium.” Fenris said in between bites. He was getting irritated at the giggles and remarks he could hear around them.

“I hope Merrill knows how to use this arulin’holm thing,” said Anders. “I’m still hazy on exactly how we’re supposed to destroy the Eluvians in the other Kirkwall and get back again though.” 

“I think the Keeper filled her in last night before the feast. Either way, I am eager to do this and get demons off our backs.” Vic said as he reached over to rest his hand on Fenris’ thigh and whisper in his ear. 

“Love, don’t ...please.” he asked quietly.

“Very well, because you said please.” Fenris huffed as he set his scraps aside for the fire.

Anders scraped his plate clean then set it down, glancing to Invictus. “I’m ready when you are,” he said.

“Then let’s get home.” Vic said as he rose and motioned to Merrill to join them. It was a long walk back and he was eager to get back by the second afternoon bell if they were lucky.

**

The walk to get Merrill had been tense, Arden and Anders walked ahead of Fenris at a brisk pace, neither man even checked to see if he was still there or had fallen behind. He was a picture of abject misery as they spoke to the Dalish mage, which was made worse as they trekked out to Sundermount.

He hadn’t realized Merrill had spoken of him until he heard his name said by her the second time.

“Anders, what’s wrong with saying that? I didn’t think Fenris could cry. I thought all he could do was scowl and make angry faces.” 

Though Fenris couldn’t see the mage’s face, the stiff set of his shoulders and the way he held his head all spoke volumes. Anders was angry and hurt still, and Merrill’s questions weren’t helping. 

“Merrill, you have feelings too. Why is it so hard to believe Fenris could? He has a heart just like any other man.”

That made the elf stumble and lean against a nearby tree so he could compose himself. He was already feeling like he wanted to throw himself off the nearest cliff, but her words made the cuts sting even more. Was he such a bastard that even light hearted Merrill thought him incapable of feeling?

Anders was still speaking, he realised, the words drifting back to him as they carried on, unaware he’d dropped behind.

“Fenris can hurt and cry just as easily as you or I, Merrill. He just prefers not to show it in front of others. Remember, he was a slave. He got very good at hiding his true feelings - self-preservation, just as I did in the Circle. Tears and hurt could be used against you. You couldn’t show any weakness. You can’t live that way your whole waking life and then just switch it off. He may not show it, but he does feel. He does have a heart. Now would you drop it? Please?” Anders’ voice sounded worn and frayed.

Fenris let them go ahead, he just stayed there until he couldn’t hear them anymore then slid to the ground.

Merrill looked away, unsure why he was so angry with her. Fenris had been nothing but nasty to her since he saw her do blood magic. “Apologies Anders.” she turned back to see if he was still visibly upset and found the road empty. “Anders...he’s not behind us.”

Anders halted and stared back, Arden pausing to glance to him. Hal came to a stop a little way ahead and turned to look over his shoulder.

“I’ll go find him,” said Anders with a small sigh.

“Anders... leave him be. If he wants to stew in his own self-pity, let him.” Arden’s face was hard.

Anders shook his head. “No, I’ll go. You walk on ahead, we’ll catch you up.”

“Anders...” began Arden, taking a step toward the blond apostate; Anders shook his head and took a step away. “I’ll be fine. Go, we’ll be there shortly. I just want to make sure he’s OK and nothing’s happened to him.”

Arden stared at him and nodded slowly. “If you haven’t caught up in ten minutes we’re coming after you,” he said. Anders nodded.

“Understood.” He turned and jogged back down the path.

Fenris heard footsteps but didn’t move from where he’d sunk behind a tree. He couldn’t deal with Arden’s fury, not the coldness in his usually warm eyes. He wanted to die from shame and prayed the ground would open up and take him.

Anders’ footsteps faltered and then stopped as the mage glanced around. “Fenris?”

“Go on without me.” he said from his hiding spot.

Anders turned in the direction of his voice, and his eyes narrowed. “No,” he said quietly.

“I can’t… I can’t walk behind you three and hear it anymore. Arden hates me, you should hate me. Just leave me here.” Fenris said brokenly.

Anders sat down on the path with his back against the sandstone cliff behind him, his staff held across his knees. “I’m not moving from here until you do,” he said. “But I should warn you that if we don’t show up in ten minutes Arden’s going to come looking.”

“Maybe I should let him just kill me, it will hurt less.” Fenris said as he reluctantly rose and came out in view of the blond apostate. 

“Arden’s not a cold-blooded killer. Well,” he amended, “Not the cold-blooded part, anyway.”

Fenris had nothing to say, instead he bowed his head and waited for Anders to walk so he could follow.

“That’s it? Silence? Do you really have nothing to say to me, Fenris?” the mage asked quietly as he pushed himself back upright, one hand braced against the sandstone rock. “I came back for you. That should tell you something.”

“I have apologized Anders, and I am grateful you came for me. I don’t know what else to say, I tried to beg forgiveness in the manner I am accustomed to and it upset you. I...my heart hurts, my head hurts, I don’t know what to do to make amends. Arden’s fury, your hurt ...I know it is deserved and that makes it all the harder to bear.” Fenris said as he finally looked up to Anders. “I don’t understand why you don’t hate me.”

Anders walked over until the bare span of a hand at most separated them and stared down at the elf. “Because I still love you,” he said softly.

That made Fenris hang his head again and fresh tears fall as he reached out to Anders. “Please… please, just hold me for a moment.”

Anders silently enfolded the elf into his arms, cradling him close, resting his cheek against the snow white hair.

Fenris sobbed as he was held and apologized in Tevene, begged forgiveness even as he was held. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry...so sorry.” he repeated.

“I know, I know,” whispered Anders. “Hush, it’s going to be OK. We’ll get through this somehow.”

“Arden hates me, he hates me…” Fenris sobbed. Anders shook his head and tightened his arms around the warrior.

“No, he’s just angry and frustrated after everything that’s happened. He’s just trying to protect me, that’s all,” he said softly. “Give him a while to calm down and then we can all talk about it. Let’s just get up this blasted mountain. Maker only knows what Arden’s hoping to find up here; with Marethari dead, I can’t see any reason for the clan to stay around here. I don’t know where he thinks Merrill is going to lead us. It’s not as though spare arulin’holms grow on trees.”

“You didn’t see how he looked at me.” Fenris hiccuped as he pulled back and wiped at his face and tried to calm himself. “If he tells me to leave, he might as well kill me on the spot.” the elf took a deep breath and glanced up the path with trepidation. “Let’s go.” he said quietly.

Anders nodded and turned to walk back up the path, slinging an arm comfortingly around Fenris’ shoulder as they walked, mindful of the spikes on his armour.

Fenris didn’t say anything as they approached Arden and Merrill, he kept his head down and waited for the group to go. He knew nothing he could say would calm the other blond mage so he didn’t try.

Arden didn't even glance at Fenris as the elf and mage rejoined the other two, though he did give Anders a quizzical look. Anders merely shook his head and tightened his grip around Fenris' shoulders briefly. Fenris tried not to let the fact Arden couldn't bring himself to look at him get under his skin. Instead he held his head up and squeezed Anders in return.

"Arden," he said. "What exactly are we going to do up on Sundermount? It's not as though Merrill's people will exactly have a spare arulin'holm. Will they even have a new Keeper yet? Merrill was Marethari's apprentice, wasn't she?"

Merrill turned and headed up the path, all this tense staring and anger was getting to her. "I hope the clan is here, though they may be angry with me still." She said as they made their way up the mountain. "I was yes, who knows if they are there still." she added quietly.

"But your people no longer have a Keeper with you in Kirkwall," said Anders. "Doesn't that technically mean... *you're* the Keeper now?"

"Mythal...I don't know actually. Even if I am, it's not like they've worried about contacting me." Merrill replied.

"Maybe they didn't know how. Or maybe they thought you'd abandoned them," said Anders carefully, aware this was a touchy subject for the Dalish mage.

"Maybe they just hate me, wouldn't be the first time in my life." She said as she glanced at Fenris then back to the road. 

He scowled briefly but let it go, there was no point in arguing. Arden would likely side with her anyway while he was so angry with him.

Anders sighed. "I'm sure they don't hate you. They were just afraid of the blood magic."

"Can we let it go?" Merrill snapped.

Anders dropped his gaze to the dusty road. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"M'sorry, I'm just tense and worried. I don't need reminders of my folly from my friends. I hope I'm still your friend Anders." She said just as quietly.

"You are," said Anders. "I know we've had our differences, but I was only ever worried for you Merrill."

"Thank you." She said as she headed on, her gaze flickering between the three men, landing often on Fenris and her thoughts went back to her words about his feelings.

"Fenris..." She said hesitantly. 

"What?" He said, malice in his gaze. Anders' fingers tightened a little on Fenris' shoulder in silent entreaty for the elf to be gentle.

"I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean." She was cut off by his response. 

"You never do." He said with a hint of his usual steel in his voice.

"Love," whispered Anders softly to the elven warrior. He didn't think he could handle more fighting within their group.

"I don't need her pity." He whispered in response. 

"Never mind." Merrill and moved up the path faster, eager to out distance between herself and the hostile Tevinter elf.

"Well done, Fenris," remarked Arden, his tone belligerent. "Anyone else you want to alienate today? I'm sure you could piss off Hal if you really put your mind to it, after all it's not as though he's Tranquil and will put up with bullshit any longer. No, wait, you'd rather just shag him into compliance, wouldn't you?"

Anders winced.

Fenris glared at him for a long, drawn out moment then spun on his heel to go back to the city. He had limits of what he was going to tolerate but that was a low blow, even for Arden.

"No, stop!" cried Anders as he came to a halt, one hand outstretched toward Fenris. He glared back at Arden. "That's it. Enough. What in the Void has gotten into you, Arden? You're not like this! This... I'm not sure I even know you when you behave this way. You're more like that Invictus Hawke than the Arden I thought I knew and loved. I get it, you're hurting - we all are. But that was beyond a joke, Arden."

"Oh, and am I supposed to just roll over and ignore the way he fucked Hal behind our back?" snapped Arden as he turned and glared at Anders. "The way he reduced you to a mess earlier? You may have forgiven him but that doesn't mean I have to!"

Anders stared at him, slowly shaking his head. "I don't know you," he said quietly. "This is completely unlike you. A few days ago you were so happy that Fenris and I were slowly getting over things between us, and then you pull a stunt like this?"

"A stunt?" exclaimed Arden. He closed the space between himself and Anders in two short strides, pushing into the other mage's space until they were chest to chest. "A fucking _stunt_? And what was his behaviour - was that another fucking _stunt_?" he spat, practically shouting in Anders' face.

"Stop this, you are being mean Arden. Void, I can see how miserable Fenris is even if he doesn't want my concern. This is unlike you." Merrill cried then looked to Hal . "Have you nothing to say in all this? He wasn't by himself in wronging them."

Fenris remained tense as he watched Arden run up on Anders. "You want to fight me then? Hit me, will that make you feel better Champion?" He asked in a low growl.

Hal strode swiftly back toward the group, brushing past Merrill as he thrust himself between the two mages, holding them at arm's length. He stared at Anders. "I am sorry," he said quietly. "I have wronged you both, and for that I apologise. You should not be the target of Arden's wrath." He turned to Arden, pressing both his hands against the Champion's chest, holding him back easily despite his slender frame. "Your anger is misplaced," he said calmly. "If you have a quarrel it is with me, not Anders. Would you drive away both your loves with your anger?"

Arden glared at Hal, but the red-head was unmoved by his anger.

“Did you think Fenris took me unwilling? Believe me, I consented. Perhaps I shouldn't. We both were weak. But I did. Take your anger out on me, not the one we both wronged."

Arden stared at him for long moments then abruptly turned away. "Let's go," he snarled, taking long strides to put himself ahead of the others.

Fenris looked to Anders, then Hal and ignored Merrill as he tried to decide what to do. On the one hand he knew the Imperial Chantry and possibly Meredith was after Anders, and if he left the four mages alone, they would not have a blade between them and enemies. 

On the other, his guilt had limits and he wouldn't be spoken to as Arden had. He finally spoke with Anders in a low, harsh whisper. 

"I will come to protect you, after this I will have to decide if I can abide Arden any longer. Let us be on our way so this farce can be concluded and we can make decisions."

Merrill hurried after Arden, she had no desire to make the situation worse. It was clear Fenris didn't care for her apology.

Anders was badly shaken by the way Arden had pushed into his personal space like that, all aggression and anger; for a moment he’d been filled with a very real fear as the air had seemed heavy with the implied threat of imminent violence. Hal’s hand upon his chest had seemed as much there to hold him up as separate the two men, and as Arden strode away without a backward glance he unthinkingly reached a trembling hand to seek Fenris’ fingers in mute reassurance.

Hal glanced up into Anders’ face then over toward Fenris before dropping into step next to Anders as the blond mage hesitantly moved on.

“This is so unlike Arden,” said Anders, his eyes troubled as he stared at Arden’s back. “I don’t know him any more. He scares me.”

“He is not himself,” said Hal quietly. “I am sorry for the trouble I - we - have caused.”

“I am sorry but his words were too much. I would never coerce you, I would not do…” Fenris’ voice trembled slightly as he squeezed Anders hand in response.

Anders clung to Fenris’ hand as he stared at the road ahead, his eyes distant, not really seeing the stony path or Arden and Merrill ahead.

“I know,” said Hal. “I was as willing a participant as you were. The fault is as much mine as yours.” He glanced at Anders. “You have shown me only gentleness and kindness since I first came under Arden’s roof, and it was ill of me to repay you thus.”

“I remember what it was like when I first joined with Justice,” Anders said quietly. “He was overwhelmed by the force of my emotions, and I... lost control of them a little myself in turn. Everything was very raw, very new. I imagine being Tranquil and then having all your emotions come flooding back was a little like that. Were I in your shoes, I don’t think I could say I would have done any different - especially as, from what I understand, in his Kirkwall Endrin and Fenris were together.”

“I will not excuse myself by blaming Endrin,” replied Hal quietly.

“Nor will I Anders, I was weak, I was a fool but I cannot regret the gift I gave Hal. If Arden wishes me to leave, I will do so. But I will not be accused of forcing myself on him.” Fenris said softly.

Anders’ fingers tightened slightly in Fenris’ grip. “He should not have said that,” he said. “I’m not sure I can forgive him for that.”

“Even if he calms himself and speaks to me like I am not a ...monster, I do not know what I will do. If cast out, I might have to take Aveline up on her incessant hints to join the guard. At least it would be a roof over my head. Assuming they even take elves.” Fenris said defeatedly.

Anders darted a sideways glance at him. “You still have the mansion,” he reminded him. “And... you still have me.”

“Thank you but the mansion is likely unlivable by now. It was barely habitable when I still remained. It would take a lot of work to make it safe for anyone. I don’t want that to be an option. I want to work this out but right now, I am doubtful Arden wishes me to remain.” Fenris said as they walked, his gaze occasionally flickering up to where Merrill and Arden walked at a fast clip ahead of them. “The hatred in his eyes has undone me.”

“I’m at a loss to explain it,” said Anders. “We killed the demon, but I wonder if it left some lasting change or some part of itself inside him. Or maybe Invictus’ influence has become too strong.”

“Regardless, let’s get this farce over with. I don’t even know what we’ll find up here.” Fenris said as they trudged onward to the top of the mountain. 

The answer was a large empty space with the old remains of firepits where the Dalish encampment once stood. Merrill glanced around the grassy area hopelessly. 

Arden glared about the clearing as though the Dalish had moved on as a personal affront.

Fenris crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Merrill or Arden to speak, he had nothing to say to them that would not spark bloodshed or a fight.

Arden picked up an abandoned cooking pot from the ashes of a fire and studied it before hurling it away with a string of curses.

Hal glanced around the clearing and bent down to touch the cold coals of another fire. “They haven’t been here in over a week, likely longer,” he said.

Anders slumped down on a nearby rock and groaned. “So now what?” he asked. “What do we do now?”

Arden glared at him, and the blond apostate flinched slightly. 

Fenris rested his hand on Anders shoulder and glared right back at Arden. He was not going to be cowed by his tantrum. He spoke to Merrill despite the fact it pained him to do so.

“Do you know where your clan could have gone? Or what there is to do with them gone and the arulin’holm burned?” the elven fighter said with no rancor to his voice, he was fresh out.

“I don’t know,” said Merrill unhappily. “The Eluvian isn’t like a normal mirror; ordinary tools won’t break it. And I’m afraid to use blood magic again; any spirit I call up wouldn’t be able to match the power of what we’re facing. I just... don’t know. Unless....”

“Unless?” echoed Arden, frowning.

“Asha'Bellanar,” said Merrill quietly. “She’s the only one who might have the power to help us. You still have her amulet don’t you, Hawke?”

“I do,” said Arden slowly. “We have no way of knowing if she’d respond, but I guess it’s the only option we have right now.”

“Do we need to go back to the same place or can you just use it at Hawke’s?” Fenris asked, his grip on Anders steady as he hoped they would not have to go all the way back to the city and redo this whole trip the next day.

Merrill shook her head. “It would have to be at the same place,” she replied. “Asha’Bellanar would not come to the city. I’m not even sure she would come at all, but it’s the only thing I can think of.”

Arden reached under his tunic and pulled out the amulet slowly. “Good job I brought it with me then, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

Fenris said not one word to the Champion, but he was grateful that they would not have to return. He squeezed Anders’ shoulder one last time before he spoke to Merrill. “Let’s get this over with.” 

Merrill led the way up the side of the mountain. “Best be on our guard,” she warned them. “There will still be... unquiet things up here. The spirits of my people do not take kindly to those who disturb their rest.”

“I remember,” said Arden tersely.

“Unquiet things?” said Hal softly to Anders, who shuddered slightly.

“Revenants, skeletons, things like that,” he replied quietly. “We ran into several groups of them when we first brought the amulet up here.”

“Who is this Asha’Bellanar?” asked Hal.

“The Witch of the Wilds, Flemeth, some call her.” Merrill replied. “It’s how I met Hawke, he returned an amulet to the Keeper and we had to come to the graveyard to do the ceremony. I just hope she comes to us.” Merrill said as they walked.

Both Anders and Arden were silent as they made their way back along the grassy path and up the ancient stone steps that were green with moss, old carvings obscured by lichen and worn away in places by centuries of rain and inclement weather. It clouded over as they rose higher up Sundermount, and presently it began to drizzle, cold and damp. Anders’ pauldrons were soon soaked through and bedraggled, no longer quite as fine and glossy as they dripped soddenly.

The attack came suddenly and without warning, a wraith rising up out of the damp soil directly behind the blond apostate and striking him from behind before Fenris could cry a warning. Anders staggered with a muffled curse as he reached for his staff.

“You will not have anyone today.” Fenris snarled as he attached the creature, rending it nearly in half with a rage-fueled strike. 

They were surrounded by the undead things, four wraiths and a revenant rising up from tumbled and fallen graves around them in addition to the one Fenris had just dispatched. Arden unleashed a fireball at the revenant as Anders hurled a spirit bolt at the nearest wraith. Hal thrust back another that was ghosting up behind Merrill as two more drifted toward Fenris.

“I hate the undead, I hate all of this.” Fenris muttered darkly as he took on anything that got near him. He ghosted in a flash of lyrium blue that made him hard to pin down as he attacked anything undead that appeared.

Anders swiftly cast haste spells on them all as Hal carved a glyph of repulsion into the soft earth with the bladed end of his staff. Twisted thorny vines erupted from the earth to engulf a skeleton that emerged suddenly from the ground in front of the elven warrior even as Arden dispatched the revenant with a lightning strike.

“Fuck…” Fenris shouted as the lightning hit a bit too close for his comfort. He didn’t have time to argue, not when there were a few more undead left to dispatch. He took out a wraith by plunging his fist into the place it’s heart might be and pulling viciously. Once it fell he turned around to see what was left standing.

Arden had destroyed the skeleton with a blast from his staff, and Anders had just finished striking down the last wraith before turning and throwing healing energy towards the Champion who was bleeding from a sword cut to the left arm. Arden barely acknowledged him with a nod before turning to head up the next flight of stairs.

“Anyone else need healing?” asked Anders, his voice subdued.

“I’m uninjured, not that nearly being fried means I’m alright.” Fenris muttered darkly as he joined Anders. 

They followed Arden up the stairs and straight into another group of skeletons. Anders sighed in resignation as he threw up a shield spell over Fenris whilst Hal carved out another protection glyph, Merrill casting a crushing prison on the nearest skeleton before calling up more thorny vines to immobilise the nearest skeletons that were advancing on Arden and Fenris as the elf blazed with blue lyrium light and ghosted forward once more.

They fought their way through three more waves of undead, climbing a little higher up the mountainside each time until finally they stood on the long grassy plateau, out of breath and panting as Anders healed a nasty cut down Fenris’ leg and Hal did the same for Arden who had gone toe-to-toe with an arcane horror that had tried to roast him with infernal fire and come a little too close to succeeding just before the Champion took it down.

Arden glanced up at the stone altar then at Merrill. “Come on,” he growled. “Let’s get this over with and pray it works, because I have no fucking idea what to do if it doesn’t.”

Anders stared at Arden. “It’s like he’s becoming more and more like Invictus,” he said quietly to Fenris. “Is it my imagination, or is there more white in his hair?”

“I care not,” snarled Fenris, though he kept his voice low. “Whatever it is, I am done with him Anders, I swear. I saw how he treated you when you healed him earlier.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Anders said quietly. “If this doesn’t work - if Flemeth doesn’t show up - then nothing will matter.”

Fenris reached up and gripped Anders’ shoulder hard until the mage looked at him. “Do not fall into despair,” he said softly. Anders stared down at him then pressed his cheek against Fenris’ hand. 

“Come love, let’s see what happens.” Fenris said with a soft kiss to Anders’ cheek. “I am with you.”

Anders nodded and turned to watch as Arden and Merrill moved toward the altar. Arden set the amulet upon the cold bare stone, and then Merrill quietly chanted the words of _uthenara_ as she had the first time they had made this journey as Hal, Fenris and Anders drew closer, standing a few feet away from the two mages.

As Merrill finished, there was a hushed, expectant silence. They looked at each other. As the silence was drawn out and nothing happened, Arden’s face fell then grew stony as he glared at the amulet. Merrill’s face fell and she looked dismayed.

Fenris and Anders exchanged a glance and Anders’ shoulders slumped slightly. Only Hal seemed unaffected, not knowing what, if anything, anyone was expecting. He moved forward and stared at the amulet expectantly.

“Andraste’s flaming arse,” growled Arden. “That’s it. I’m officially all out of ideas.”

“No, wait,” said Hal as he approached the amulet and reached toward it. “Look, it’s just-”

Whatever he was going to say was lost as there was a sudden explosion of brilliant golden light from the amulet that blasted them all off their feet, hurling them backwards.

“Well, what have we here?” purred a husky yet feminine voice.

“An annoyed elf and four mages.” Fenris muttered as he struggled to rise.

Anders was slowly rolling over onto his side and rubbing the back of his head, looking dazed. Merrill was sitting up and dabbing at a small cut on her shoulder where she’d been thrown back against a large rock. Arden was on his feet already.

Hal was sprawled on his back unconscious a couple of feet away from where Flemeth sat lounging comfortably upon the altar.

“Four mages indeed. You are either a most fortunate or else a most unfortunate man,” she laughed. “But you are not the one who summoned me.”

“That would be me,” said Arden, stepping forward.

“Foolish child; did you think the granting and repayment of one favour would earn you another?” Flemeth replied as she rose. “Still, in desperate times men often do foolish things.”

“Asha’Bellanar,” greeted Merrill as she rose and dropped into a small curtsey. 

“Still bowing the knee I see,” remarked Flemeth drily. “But whom do you seek to impress, child of no people? Your clan is gone, your Keeper dead. You are without purpose, like chaff in the wind. To whom do you bow?”

“To - to you, Asha’Bellanar,” Merrill stammered as she looked up.

Flemeth threw her head back and laughed.

Fenris sighed and looked to the elder mage with dragon’s horns for hair for a long time before he spoke. “I am most unfortunate today madame. However, we have come before you with a query. We need to reach out to the Eluvians in other worlds, and with the arulin’holm gone, we are unsure how to activate them.” 

Flemeth stepped down to the grass and took a step toward him then glanced at Anders as the blond apostate gingerly got to his feet, still rubbing the back of his head. 

“Curious,” she said quietly. “Now here is an imbalance and a pretty little puzzle.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully as she regarded Anders. “And yet... why not?”

Anders regarded her warily. “Why not what?” he asked, uncertain he wanted to hear the answer. He didn’t like the way the witch was looking at him, a speculative look in her golden eyes.

“You seek a tool and a way, and yet you are blind to the path before your very noses,” she said as she inclined her head to one side. “You face a graver danger than you know; you seek to face one who is far older than I, and yet you do not even know its name.”

“And I suppose you do?” said Arden, his tone belligerent.

“Its name was long forgotten even before Arlathan fell,” replied Flemeth.

“That’s not answering my question,” replied Arden. Flemeth flashed a quick feral grin, all teeth, before turning and walking toward him.

“Impatient child, you must learn how to tell the right question from the foolish one first, hmm?” She smiled at him. “Its name is not important to you. It is no mere demon you face, but a creature far older than you could possibly dream, equal to the Creators themselves.”

“Then how can we hope to defeat it?” the Champion asked.

“You cannot. You can merely hope to thwart it at best.” She turned away and stalked toward Anders once more.

Fenris glared at Arden. “Perhaps we should not antagonize Flemeth?” he hissed. Arden glared back at him.

Anders took a nervous step back as Flemeth advanced upon him. “You have something which does not belong to you,” she stated.

“I-I don’t know what-” he stammered. She gestured, and suddenly Anders’ eyes flared with blue light as spirit flame ripped out from cracks all across his skin, Justice taking him over between one heartbeat and the next. 

_”YOU SHALL NOT-”_ began Justice but got no further as Flemeth gestured again and the possessed mage was abruptly lifted into the air by some unseen force. The witch lifted her right hand and plucked at the air, and his back arched as his mouth opened in a silent scream. A glowing blue mist rose from his mouth and streamed towards Flemeth’s waiting hand where it coalesced into a ball of blue glowing light.

The fire died from Anders’ eyes as she turned away, and he dropped bonelessly to the ground, landing sprawled unconscious.

“Anders!” screamed Arden as he hurled himself towards the unconscious mage, throwing himself down upon his knees beside the fallen apostate even as Fenris did the same. “Maker, what did you do to him?” the Champion exclaimed.

“Merely undid what should never have been done,” replied Flemeth as she walked toward Hal, who had woken up and pulled himself upright, leaning on the altar stone. He lifted his head and stared at her, his amber eyes widening. 

“Are you afraid of me, child?” she asked the red-haired mage softly. He stared at her uncomprehending as she approached him.

“Should I be?” he asked quietly, drawing himself upright. She chuckled.

“Oh, you are quite the brave one,” she remarked as she paused in front of him. “I like that. You’ll need your bravery my child.” The ball of energy in her hand changed from blue to gold. “Tell me what you seek.”

“A tool. A weapon. Something with which to destroy the Eluvians,” he said quietly.

“And what will you give for such a weapon?” she asked.

“Whatever is needed,” he replied.

“You speak too readily without knowing the price,” she mused.

“Whatever your price, I’m willing to pay it,” said Hal, his face sombre.

“Oh, that you will, my child. That you will.” She gestured, and the globe of golden energy struck Hal in the chest, directly over his heart. He cried out and clutched at his chest.

"What did you do them?" Fenris said in horror.

Flemeth glanced back at him. “I have given you a tool. Use it wisely.” She smiled enigmatically. “And be sure when it breaks to keep both pieces.” She turned and stepped up easily onto the stone altar. “A storm is coming such as this world has never seen,” she declared. “Ah, the possibilities! The air is rich with them.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Will you fly with the storm or be dashed upon the wind, I wonder?” 

She glanced back to the sky and suddenly her form shifted, growing vast as she sprouted wings and tail. The backdraft from the dragon’s wings blew dust and dirty in wild eddies around them as she soared into the air; and within a few strong beats of her wings she had risen above the clouds and was gone from view.

Fenris went over to Anders and listened for a heartbeat, terrified he wouldn't hear anything. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the strong sound. "He's alive."

“What on earth did she do to him though?” wondered Arden. 

Merrill hurried over to Hal who was still clutching at his chest, his face ashen. “Are you alright?” she asked him anxiously.

“I... don’t know,” he said shakily. He stared down at his chest and pulled his robe open, feeling the fabric of his tunic. “It felt like... my chest was on fire.”

Anders stirred slightly, eyelids flickering as he groaned.

"Can you hear me? How do you feel?" Fenris asked as he hovered over the blond mage.

Anders mumbled something unintelligible as his eyes slowly drifted half open, turning his head slightly toward Fenris.

"Anders? Love, focus please. Can you hear me? Can you see us?" Fenris asked as he gently tipped the mages head towards him.

“Anders, it’s Fenris and Arden. We’re both here with you love. Come on, open your eyes - please?” pleaded Arden as he took Anders’ hand between his own, his voice plaintive and worried.

Anders blinked. “Did... did a templar smite me or something?” he whispered hoarsely.

"No, Flemeth did something to you. It's like she pulled magic or energy from you. I've never seen anything like it." Fenris uncapped his water skin and held it up. "Drink a bit?"

He ignored Arden's words but found his sudden switch to concern curious.

Arden slid an arm beneath Anders’ shoulders and helped him sit up. “Please,” the apostate nodded. He sipped the water slowly then stared at Fenris. 

“I feel like I just got flattened by a pack of templars,” he grimaced. “I... can’t feel Justice.” He looked suddenly worried. 

"At all?" The elf said as he knelt next to him. "Well rest for a bit, do you think you can walk if you're helped?" Fenris asked gently.

“Maybe. I feel incredibly weak and tired.” He glanced at Arden, then over at Hal. “What happened? Apart from Flemeth taking something from me? I can’t remember much beyond her looking at me and then waking up on the ground.”

“She did something to Hal,” said Merrill. “We don’t know what. She said she’d given us a weapon and we get to keep both pieces.”

“That... makes even less sense than you usually do,” remarked Anders faintly.

“Rest love, just rest. If we need to stay for a while, we will. I can get firewood and at least see if there’s anything to hunt here.” Fenris said softly.

Anders nodded, his eyes slipping closed again. Arden stared down at him, his expression dark with worry.

Merrill had her arm around Hal and was helping him to sit down on the grass. “I don’t think Hal is up to going very far either,” she said.

“Then I guess we spend the night here.” Fenris said as he rose. “We would get stuck on a mountain top with no real preparation, blighted, Maker forsaken fucking haunted mountain at that.” he said in annoyance.

“There should be prey around here,” said Merrill. “Now the clan has moved on, there’ll be no-one else hunting so prey should be quite plentiful. The hunters rarely came this way either. Oh, and there’ll be herbs and things! I could gather those.”

Fenris grunted and stood up. “Whatever we’re going to do, it should be before it gets dark. I suppose you know these woods well?” he asked tiredly. 

“There are some supplies in my backpack,” said Hal dazedly. “We should get off this plateau and find shelter.”

“Maybe we’ll find an empty cave or something back over there,” Arden said, gesturing towards the rocky cliff face at the far end of the plateau. He glanced up at the sky. “It’ll be getting dark in a couple of hours.”

“Just enough time to find shelter.” he leaned down and nudged at Anders. “If I support you, can you make it to shelter love?” Fenris asked quietly his face solemn as he looked over the apostate. 

“I can try,” answered Anders as he opened his eyes again. “If it’s not too far.”

“Alright.” Fenris helped him up and steadied his lover with an arm around his waist. “Merrill can you help Hal or is he too tall for you to aid?” Fenris didn’t want to talk to Arden even if he’d seemed to have cooled off finally.

Arden seemed reluctant to relinquish Anders but stepped away once it was obvious Fenris could manage the taller man fine by himself. He glanced at Hal as Merrill helped him to his feet. 

“I think we can manage,” said Merrill.

Arden wordlessly picked up Hal’s pack and waited to follow the others.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arden apologises, whilst over in the other Kirkwall Invictus & co redecorate Merrill's house in this season's latest colour - blood-red.

They found a small cave near the back of the plateau, a few feet away from the rocky entrance. It was easy to overlook, the entrance partially obscured by a pile of fallen rocks and some scrubby bushes to which a few late berries still clung. Merrill gathered firewood and Arden had a fire going quickly whilst Hal sorted through the supplies in his pack. There were some links of sausage, a small wheel of hard cheese, a flask of oil, a pack of dried beans and a small sack of flour in addition to bowls, spoons, a cooking pot and a small frying pan. Hal set the beans to soaking as he chopped up the sausages, then in another bowl he mixed a little oil with a couple of cups of flour and some water, mixing it to a smooth dough seasoned with some of the herbs Merrill gathered. She’d also found some wild carrots and other roots which Arden chopped.

In a little while Hal had a hearty stew cooking over the fire, and he began frying up the dough into flat loaves of unleavened trail bread.

Anders barely had the energy to walk as far as the cave even with Fenris’ assistance, and he lay down with his head pillowed upon his bag, eyes closed.

Fenris caressed his face gently then stood to go out of the cave. He felt the need for air, and distance from the other blond mage. “I will gather more firewood, it can’t hurt to have more on hand. I will return shortly.” he said as he strapped his sword back on.

Arden got to his feet. “I’ll give you a hand,” he offered.

“No, you stay with Anders. after all who knows what I’ll do while he’s so vulnerable and helpless.” Fenris snapped.

Arden jerked, stung, as though Fenris had physically struck him. He was silent a moment, then lowered his head. “I deserved that,” he said quietly.

“What do you want Arden, I am guilty, I feel terrible for what I did but I will not be so maligned even if you are rightfully angry with me and hurt.” Fenris said, his gaze hard and unflinching even as he hoped for Arden to soften just a bit.

“I shouldn’t have spoken as I did,” conceded Arden. “I was angry, and - yes, hurt. I shouldn’t have said that though, even in anger.”

“Now what, Anders gets hurt and you suddenly remember who you are? I wished to apologize, to beg mercy for my transgression but right now I am unsure how I feel about you. To know you can wield your fury with such cutting words...it unnerves me.” Fenris admitted.

“I’m not sure what came over me,” said Arden slowly. “I was hurting. I felt... betrayed. When Anders forgave you so easily, I was... angry that I couldn’t do the same. Guilty that he was a better man than I. And rather than examine why, I... lashed out. I wanted you to hurt the way I was hurting. That was wrong, and stupid of me, and I... I can’t justify why I behaved like that.” He lifted his head slowly, his amber eyes dark and troubled. “I’m sorry.”

“You succeeded.” Fenris said slowly, his gaze softened but he still held himself stiffly, wary of what Arden might do to him. 

Arden glanced over at Anders, who was curled up with his eyes closed. “When I got in Anders’ face earlier... I realised he was scared. Of me.” He swallowed hard. “When Flemeth... did whatever she did to him, and then he dropped.... All I could think of was how scared he’d looked when I shouted at him, and ....” His voice tailed off softly. “Maker, what kind of a man am I becoming?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t like it. Be angry with me, shout at me, but never, ever threaten Anders like that again. Never accuse me of ...of being capable of such things. After all I have been through Arden, that you could even think such a thing let alone voice it…” Fenris’ voice trailed off as he blinked away tears. “I need some air.”

Arden nodded dumbly, his face crestfallen and ashamed.

Hal and Merrill had kept their heads down through the whole exchanged, torn between embarrassment at being unwitting witnesses to the whole thing and sympathy for the two men as they tentatively felt their way through the conversation.

“I will return soon and perhaps we can speak, I would prefer it to be when Anders is awake and can participate as well.” Fenris left for a brisk walk, he needed to clear his head and the longer he stayed the harder that was going to be.

Arden sighed almost voicelessly then sat back down near Anders. The blond apostate didn’t move, his breathing soft and silent.

“I’ll go look for more food things, shall I?” said Merrill nervously as she jumped up, restless.

“If you like,” replied Hal, glancing up. “I think we’ll probably be OK, but perhaps you could look out for any late berries or other fruit?”

“I’ll see what I can find,” nodded Merrill as she headed out of the cave in the opposite direction to the way Fenris had gone. 

Hal continued to fry up the flatbread in silence, leaving Arden to sit and fidget uncomfortably.

After a while Fenris returned with some sticks and small logs in hand. He dumped them off and headed back to where Anders was resting. “How is he?” he asked Arden quietly.

“He hasn’t moved,” said Arden, his voice low. “I’m not sure if he’s sleeping or....” He sighed.

“Hopefully just sleeping.” Fenris said. He cupped Anders cheek slightly and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Love please say something.”

Anders opened his eyes, blinking a couple of times before he glanced up to the elf. “Hmm?”

“Good, we were worried you were unconscious. Do you feel up to eating?” Fenris asked softly.

“I think so,” replied the mage as he levered himself up on one elbow before glancing round. “Where did Merrill go?”

“Looking for berries or other fruit,” replied Hal as he handed a wooden platter piled with flatbreads to Fenris. “It’ll be a little while before the stew is ready but this should keep us all going until it’s done.”

“Thank you.” Fenris took one and handed the plate to Arden, then offered his to Anders. “I’ll eat later, I’m not really hungry right now.” he admitted.

Anders took the small cake of flatbread and sat up, tucking into it hungrily. Arden took a couple then put the plate down in front of Anders, within reach of Hal.

Arden ate his flatbread then brushed crumbs off his chest whilst he gathered his thoughts. Anders reached for another.

“I... owe you both an apology,” said Arden quietly. Anders went still. “I said I was sorry to Fenris earlier, Anders, but... I need to apologise to you too, love. I behaved abysmally earlier, and there was no excuse for it.”

Anders kept his eyes on the plate. “I was scared you were going to hit me,” he said quietly. “I really thought you were going to until Hal stepped in the way.”

“I would never have struck you, love,” said Arden, laying a hand on Anders’ shoulder; Anders flinched instinctively, and Arden snatched his hand back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” said Anders. “I wasn’t the one you were angry at. You had no right to take your temper out on me.”

“You’re right, I didn’t,” agreed Arden. “I was angry at myself as much as anything, and it was wrong of me to lash out at both you and Fenris. And I’m sorry.”

“That is all well and good, but I have no wish to fear my lovers wrath. Your anger at me is deserved, and I will do anything I can to make amends but do not accuse me of ...that again or it will be the last you see of me.” Fenris said as he finally took a flat bread and worked at it slowly.

“I should never have said that,” said Arden. “I bitterly regret it. I know you would never... do anything like that, and it was completely out of order for me to even suggest it.” He took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is... please give me another chance? Both of you?”

“If I can have another chance as well, though I am unsure I deserve it.” Fenris said.

“I’ve already said I forgive you, love,” said Anders as he turned to Fenris and gently kissed his cheek.

“A fresh start all round perhaps?” suggested Arden.

“Yes, and for Hal as well.” Fenris motioned for him to join them. “We both should beg pardon for what we did.” 

Hal lifted his head and glanced at the elf nervously, then at Anders and finally Arden. The Champion gestured to him, and Anders nodded encouragingly. The red-head shifted around the fire to sit closer to the three men.

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” he said quietly. “I am sorry for my part in all of this.”

“It must have been a very confusing time for you,” said Anders gently. Hal nodded.

“I...cannot explain what came over me, but the urge for Hal hit hard and fast. I am sorry I strayed, but not sorry for what I was able to do for him. Though perhaps Anders would have been better suited for it, since he knows similar feelings.” Fenris admitted quietly.

“I just wish the two of you had spoken to Anders and I first,” sighed Arden. “That was what hurt the most - that you had to go and do it behind our backs.” He slipped an arm around Anders’ waist and the blond apostate leaned into his touch, resting his head on Arden’s shoulder as he reached out a hand to Fenris.

“If you’d asked, I would have been OK with it,” said Anders. 

“What? Why?” Fenris said in surprise.

Anders smiled a little. “Because I remember what it was like in the Tower. How it felt to be taken by the templars and abused. And what it finally felt like when someone took the time to show me it didn’t have to be like that. That it could feel good, be gentle. What it felt like to be touched by a lover, not an abuser.”

That made Fenris look down in shame once more. “I didn’t think it would be ok if I just asked, I didn’t know. I…” he stopped and tried to collect himself. “I’ve never had that option, I’m so sorry.”

Anders pulled away from Arden and reached for Fenris, wrapping his arms around the elf and resting his head on the warrior’s shoulder. “It’s OK,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry, I just don't’ understand how it would be ok even with permission. Can we...can we try again, please? Or would…” he stopped and looked at Hal then his other lovers. “Or...could we all, you know...help Hal out?”

Anders lifted his head slightly to glance at the red-headed mage. “You mean, you’d like Hal to join us?” he asked. Arden glanced at Hal as well, and under their gaze he went rather pink and ducked his head, suddenly nervous of their scrutiny.

“Ah...um, not all at once! I mean, if it’s really ok, and he wouldn’t mind and I’m making no sense at all so I’ll just shut up now.” Fenris said.

“Hal? How do you feel about all this?” asked Arden quietly.

“I’m... not sure,” admitted Hal. “I’d... like to...” He glanced at Fenris. “It was... very nice. I’d like to do it again,” he said.

“I won’t even get in the way, I’ll just..I don’t…” the elf stopped talking…”I’m babbling aren’t I?”

“Who’s babbling?” asked Merrill cheerfully as she came back into the cave, the bottom of her tunic held in her hands, cradling a pile of berries, nuts and fruit. “That’s normally me isn’t it? It can’t be Fenris, he hardly says two words together.” She paused as they stared at her. “What? Have I got juice on my face or something?”

“You have one last time to--” Fenris’ vitriol was cut off by a hand over his mouth as he turned to stare at Anders in surprise. Anders merely grinned as he quirked an eyebrow upwards, then pulled his hand away only to replace it with his mouth, kissing Fenris.

The elf wanted to argue but the kiss felt too nice and he was full of relief that he hadn’t destroyed things between them all. He pulled back for air and to scowl at Anders. “That was a dirty trick.”

“Mmm, wasn’t it though?” agreed Anders, then lay down with his head in Fenris’ lap - which was as effective a way as any of ensuring Fenris stayed put. Arden merely grinned.

“Sneaky mage...sure you weren’t a rogue before?” Fenris huffed but remained still so Anders could rest comfortably.

Merrill looked uncertain. “Did I miss something?” she asked.

“I’ll explain later,” said Hal as he pulled out a pot for her to put the fruits into. “The stew will be ready soon.” He looked over the assortment of fruit. “Going to be a bad winter,” he mused.

Merrill stared at him. “How do you know that? You’re a-”

“A what? A _shemlen_?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. “I wasn’t born in the Circle you know. My family originally came from the Dales.”

“Really?” asked Anders. Hal nodded.

“My mother taught me what foods were safe to eat. We were poor, so a lot of what we ate came from what we could gather for ourselves.” He sat back with a thoughtful expression. “She died shortly before the templars came for me. Fever. It was bad that winter; over half the village lost someone they cared for. I guess it was a relief to my father when I was taken to the Circle; one less mouth to feed.”

“You’re with three humans, not shemlen.” Fenris grumbled as he leaned back against the wall. “People do learn to live off the land, it’s not a strictly elven trait.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -” Merrill gave up and huffed a small sigh.

Fenris smirked and closed his eyes, relaxing for the first time that day. “Anders I am not a pillow and you are not fooling anyone by planting yourself there.” he huffed with no heat to his voice. His only answer was a faint snore. Arden glanced down at the blond apostate in surprise.

“I don’t believe it,” he muttered. “I’ve never known anyone who could fall asleep just like that.”

“He’s had a hard day.” Fenris muttered as he glanced at Arden. He was still a bit wary, but he felt hopeful they could weather their storm together.

Arden glanced at the entrance to the cave; it had grown dark outside whilst they talked. “I’ll take first watch after supper,” he offered. “I vote we leave Anders to sleep through. Hal, how are you feeling after whatever it was Flemeth did to you?”

Hal rubbed his chest with one hand thoughtfully. “I still feel a tingle, but I seem fine and healthy. Whatever it was she did does not appear to have harmed me; I should be fine to stand a watch.”

Arden nodded. “Fenris, which watch do you want to take?”

“I’ll take watch after you Arden.” Fenris rumbled from his place against the wall.

“I can take the next watch.” Merrill said quietly. Arden nodded.

“OK, Hal, you take fourth watch then. That’s settled.” He stared hopefully at the stewpot. Hal chuckled. 

“It’s nearly done,” he assured them as he stirred the stew with a ladle.

“You’re remarkably practical for someone who grew up in the Circle,” observed Arden. “Even if you did learn some stuff before they came for you....”

“Ah, but it’s not just me in here, remember?” said Hal, tapping his temple with a forefinger. “It seems Endrin was quite the practical apostate, and I have his memories as well as my own.”

“I’m grateful for his practicality, especially since we wound up having to stay here.” Fenris said before he fell asleep, lulled by Anders warmth against his leg and comfort in being warm and safe.

Arden nudged him awake what seemed only a short time later to hand him a bowl of stew with another piece of flatbread before gently shaking Anders.

“Come on love, food’s ready,” he said gently as the blond mage blinked dazedly before sitting up slowly and accepting his bowl.

The stew was good hearty fare, filling and tasty, and there was very little left in the pot once they’d all finished.

Fenris stretched out on his side, tired and full. Normally he was last to fall asleep but the day had been taxing, and he was exhausted. He didn’t conk out immediately but reached out to Anders as he laid there, listening to conversation around him. 

Anders had laid out their bedrolls and was content to lie next to Fenris as Arden, Hal and Merrill discussed differences between Circle and Dalish teaching, and what it had been like mastering magic as an apostate. Anders tried to pay attention - after all, he’d had experience of life both in the Circle and without - but it wasn’t long before his eyes drifted shut, lulled by the quiet voices, the warmth of the fire and his full stomach.

Hal broke off as a soft snoring interrupted his explanation of how things were run in the Gallows to glance at the sleeping Anders. Arden glanced across the fire and smiled fondly.

Fenris turned and curled around Anders out of habit, his grip a bit tighter than usual as he dreamed of what he’d done, the nightmare worse than what had actually happened. He frowned and whimpered as the dreams worsened, his mind playing on his fears now that he was asleep.

**

Fenris hated the Alienage, it reminded him of the slave quarters in Minrathous but he’d never mention that to Merrill. Instead he watched as she pulled the cover from the Eluvian and stood back.

“Well, here it is and we have the arulin’holm. Hopefully this will work out.” she said quietly.

Anders regarded the Eluvian with trepidation. His two brief trips through - once hard on Arden Hawke’s heels, the second time on his own - had not been pleasant. But hopefully destroying the Eluvians would mean no further trips were necessary.

“So... how do you call Endrin up?” he asked Invictus.

“I literally called him, hopefully he can answer us.” Vic said as he stepped towards the mirror. 

Fenris stepped back and turned away from the glass, he had no desire to see the other Hawke again. He felt good and didn’t want to ruin that. “I’ll just be in the other room.” 

Anders wondered whether to follow the elf, but his sense of curiosity was too strong. He glanced back at the mirror. 

Vic watched Fenris leave but didn’t argue with his lover about it. He didnt want him traumatized again either. Instead he held his hand out for the tool.

Merrill handed it over and sighed sadly at what was to happen. “It will be hard to see this shattered. But it’s for the best.” 

“Thank you Merrill.” Vic said before he touched the arulin’holm to the mirror’s surface and waited to see what happened.

The mirror went dark, and then the shadowy form of a man slowly swam into view, the familiar long blood-red hair floating in the unseen currents of the Fade. Amber eyes opened beneath the sunburst brand, and Hal stared at Invictus.

“Invictus?” he asked, frowning a little in confusion.

“Hal, sorry to...bother you, but we needed, well wanted to talk to Endrin if it’s possible.” Vic said.

“You didn’t say this Endrin was Tranquil, Hawke.” Merrill said in a low whisper.

“It’s... a bit more complicated than that, Merrill,” said Anders. “Apparently the spirit of Endrin Hawke decided to join with Hal, a Tranquil mage - in a similar way to how I joined with Justice. It broke the Rite of Tranquility upon Hal. It just so happens that Hal happens to resemble Endrin as he was in life. So this is Hal - but he is also Endrin.” He gestured at the mage in the mirror who nodded his head before glancing back to Invictus.

“In a way, I _am_ Endrin and he is me. I couldn’t tell you where I end and he begins now. Speak; we both hear,” Hal encouraged Invictus.

“I see.” Vic said before he launched into the explanation of how the Eluvians needed to be destroyed, not just in his world but where Hal was as well. “So yeah, that’s what we need to do. What do you think?” 

Hal nodded. “We know. Arden, Anders, Merrill, Fenris and I are upon Sundermount right now. In this world, the arulin’holm has been destroyed and the Keeper is no more, the Dalish gone. Arden and Merrill managed to summon Flemeth, the WItch of the Wilds. She took something from Anders; we’re still not sure what, and.... did something to me.” He raised a hand to his chest and rubbed it absently as though it faintly pained him. “She said she had given us a weapon. And that we face one of the Forgotten Ones.”

“Took something from Anders? I wonder...you said that Justice there took his Justice as well correct?” Vic said as he turned to look at the blond mage.

“That is correct,” agreed Hal, as Anders stared up at him, his expression troubled.

“Then... my counterpart - did she take away Justice completely, or only that part he stole from me?” the blond apostate wondered.

“We don’t know,” answered Hal apologetically. “When he came to, he said he felt as though a templar had used smite on him; he couldn’t feel anything at all inside. We are hopeful that when he has rested he will have a better idea of what Flemeth has done to him.”

“And you? What do you think she did to you?” asked Anders. Hal shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Somehow she....” He broke off and shrugged. “I know we need to destroy the Eluvians - all of them - but that no normal tool can do this. One of the Eluvians - the one formerly in Merrill’s keeping - was shattered when you came through after Arden, but the one in the Black Emporium is still intact. We shall make for Kirkwall in the morning and strive to destroy it.”

“Alright, this is the Eluvian in Merrill’s home, once we’ve finished speaking we’ll destroy it and then tomorrow go to the Emporium. I’m not looking forward to the fight with Xenon about it.” Vic said quietly. “I hope whatever Flemeth has done, neither of you comes to permanent harm.”

Hal nodded. “I can feel the Eluvian’s ties to the Fade from here. I shall sever them from this side whilst you destroy it from there.”

“Then I guess this is goodbye?” Invictus said quietly.

“No,” said Hal quietly. “That will come when we destroy the last Eluvians in the Black Emporium together tomorrow. This is farewell until then; that will be farewell forever.” Hal’s expression was sombre. “Until then.” He raised a hand in brief farewell.

“Thank you for all you’ve done. Goodbye for now.” Vic said then pulled the arulin’holm away and the mirror went dark once more.

“You must smash the mirror with the arulin’holm,” said Merrill, her voice choked and slightly muffled. Anders glanced back at her; her eyes were red with crying, and she was trying to hold back sobs.

“Merrill?” he asked gently; she shook her head.

“Didn’t you hear what he said?” she gasped. “In that world, Marethari is dead, the clan gone - all because of what I did there! That could have been me if Hawke had agreed to help me. I could have caused the Keeper’s death! Hawke, you have to destroy the Eluvian now, so no-one else has to die because of my folly.”

“Alright step back, no one should be in the way once I do this.” Invictus gripped the handle tight then swung with all his strength to shatter the enchanted mirror.

Fenris came back in at the sound of glass hitting the floor. “It’s done then?”

Anders stared down at the shattered glass. “It seems almost too-” he began then his voice tailed off as blood began to seep from the jagged shards. “Oh no. This doesn’t look good,” he breathed as he backed away. “Not this again....”

“Oh come on!” Fenris snarled as he pulled his blade free. “Shields, now Anders.” 

“Fire, all the fire.” Vic hissed as he pulled his staff from its holster.

Anders unslung his staff, twirling it underhand as he brought it up, a shield spell already flying from his outstretched hand before he slammed the bladed point of his staff down onto the ground and cast a glyph of repulsion. Beside him Merrill was casting a crushing prison on the gelatinous mass of tentacles that were rising up out of the pool of blood as the shards of glass lifted into the air and began to whirl in a deadly, glittering halo around the demon.

“What kind of demon is this?” Fenris growled as he looked for an opening in the whirlwind of glass and power that kept him back from the creature.

“I’m not sure,” replied Anders. “It’s -” He broke off as a stream of glass shards came flying toward him unexpectedly. He hastily threw up a wall of ice and yelled in anger as a few shards punched through, tearing a ragged hole in his shirt sleeve just above his elbow that was drenched in red blood a moment after. “Andraste’s puckered arse that hurt!” He lashed out with a lightning strike in fury.

“No, don’t get angry, Anders!” cried Merrill as she threw up a barrier of stone against a return shot of glass. “It’s a rage demon, you’re only making it stronger!”

“Great...just fucking great.” Fenris snapped as he let his brands light so he could try to ghost past its defenses. “Cover me.” he yelled to anyone who might be listening.

“Got it!” Invictus replied before he used a cone of cold on the creature in an attempt to slow it down.

Anders lashed out with a spirit bolt, gritting his teeth against the pain in his arm as Merrill threw up thorny, twisted vines to help pin down the demon. The blond mage was fighting hard against the urge to retaliate against the hideous creature that resembled the fear demon they’d fought before; instead of fear, he felt only rage. He was dimly aware that perhaps he should be grateful he were no longer possessed by Justice; he would surely have lost control by this point.

Fenris came up behind the demon, his sword striking deep into the creature. He knew he had to control himself else he would give it power. Since it was like walking magma, he couldn’t easily pluck out what passed for a heart. 

“Someone ice my blade.” he cried as he pulled it free and made to strike again.

Anders obliged with a gesture before hurling more ice at the demon to pin it down.

“Thanks.” Fenris snarled before he went to work on the rage demon, his last attack nearly taking it’s head off before he pulled back, panting. “Finish it off.” 

“With pleasure love,” Vic replied before he struck it with ice and lightning, one after the other until it’s power dimmed and it wound up as ash on the charred floor.

“My poor house,” sighed Merrill. “I’ll never get those stains out of the floor.”

“Anyone need healing?” asked Anders as he clutched his arm just above the ragged wound in his left bicep, his sleeve soaked completely through from elbow down with dark blood.

“I’m alright, irritated but not really hurt.” Fenris said as he flicked ice and gore off his blade. 

“I’m alright, you should take care of that though before you lose any more blood.” Invictus said. He turned and grimaced at the marks left from the demon. “I’ll pay for a room at the Hanged Man, if you like Merrill.”

“I don’t want anyone to think I’m...you know.” she said as she helped Anders ease his arm out of the torn sleeve of his coat.

“I said the Hanged Man, not the Blooming Rose.” Vic replied in annoyance.

Anders stared down at the ruins of his shirt then reached up to the shoulder of the linen garment and roughly tore the sleeve free before peeling it down, grimacing at the ragged mess the mirror shards had left in his arm. Pressing his palm against the gory mess he began to channel healing magic into the wound as Merrill guided him back to a chair.

“I wonder what kind of demon will be in the other mirror.” Fenris said as he sat down tiredly in a chair across from Anders.

Anders paused to draw a long sliver of bloodied glass from his arm with a hiss, dropping it to the floor before pressing his fingers to the wound again. “No idea, and I’m not going to even think about it until after I’ve washed, eaten and slept,” he said tersely before swearing as his fingers found another shard embedded in his flesh.

“Do you want help?” Fenris asked.

Vic just looked around and threw his hands up. “Maker, I knew the Veil was thin in Kirkwall but this is ridiculous.” 

Anders gave up on trying to tease out the shard of glass and nodded to Fenris. “Please,” he said, as he dropped his head to rest on his good arm on the table, feeling a little dizzy and nauseous from blood loss.

The elf came over and lit his brands, his focus on the elements that did not belong embedded in Anders flesh as he pulled out the one he’d been fiddling with, then found three more before he was done. “I think that’s all of them.” 

Anders gave him a tired, grateful smile as he leaned back and pressed his palm over the bloody wound and let the healing magic flow, repairing torn muscle and regrowing skin. When he let his hand drop, the skin was smooth and unbroken, no trace even of a scar on the blood-smeared pale skin. He picked up the ripped shirt sleeve and used the cleanest bit to wipe away the blood.

“I think we need to go home now. We’re tired, sore and I’m starved.” Vic said as he stood and stretched out the kinks in his back.

“Agreed.” Fenris said as he joined the Champion. Anders nodded again as he got to his feet and picked up his blood-soaked coat and staff.

“I so need a bath,” he grimaced.

“Merrill what are you going to do? Do you want a room at the Hanged Man or are you staying here” Vic said as he hoisted his pack to go.

“I’ll stay here,” she decided firmly. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful, Hawke, but... this is my home, even if it’s a bit....” She pulled a face. “I’ll be fine. You should go. Do you need my help with the other Eluvian tomorrow?”

“Probably if there’s another demon to be found in it, we’ll come by and get you in the morning. Good night Merrill, and thank you.” Vic replied as he left to catch up with Fenris and Anders.

They enjoyed a hearty dinner after the long day’s travel and the battle with the demon. Fenris was content to curl up in his favorite chair with a snifter of Antivan brandy, while Invictus and Anders sat near him, sharing a bottle of wine and occasionally a kiss. The blond mage was still favouring his left arm a bit, but a long hot bath followed by food had done much to improve his mood.

The elf closed his eyes and hummed softly, but it was enough to draw Vic’s attention. “You alright love?”

“Yes, just a little tired is all. But I’m full, comfortable and safe for now.” Fenris said before he took another sip of his drink.

Anders rested his head on Invictus’ shoulder and glanced over to the elf before taking another sip of wine. He could feel it going to his head and knew that if he wasn’t careful he could easily find himself falling asleep on Invictus. He was doing his best to forget all about mirrors that bled, demons and other such dark and disturbing thoughts.

Fenris leaned down to kiss Invictus softly then ran his fingers through Anders hair. “Someone is sleepy.” 

Anders lifted his head slightly, opening his eyes. “Hmm? No... no, I’m not,” he protested, sleepily, as his head sank back down onto Invictus’ shoulder again. “Just... tired,” he sighed. He didn’t protest as Invictus pulled the glass from his unresisting fingers. 

“Maybe you should go up to bed,” suggested Invictus with a smile.

“That would require effort and moving,” murmured Anders. 

“We are not sleeping in the study get up.” Fenris said in amusement.

Anders pouted a little but managed to sit upright, rubbing absently at his left arm. “Bed would be more comfy I suppose,” he conceded. “Maker, but I am so tired. Not sure why. It’s not as though... oh. Blood loss.” He smiled ruefully.

“Vic help him up to bed, I’ll pick up the study and be along in a bit.” Fenris snagged their glasses and took them towards the kitchen.

Anders waited for Invictus to stand then allowed himself to be hauled to his feet, swaying slightly. “Going to tuck me in too?” he asked with a smirk.

“Not if you misbehave.” Vic said as he helped the other mage up the stairs and to their bedroom. 

“I never misbehave!” exclaimed Anders. “Well. Not often.” He paused, then smirked again. “OK, maybe my past record may suggest otherwise.”

“I’ve met you, you always misbehave in some way.” Vic said as he plopped Anders down. “Can you undress yourself or do you need help with that too?”

Anders shrugged out of the remains of his shirt, then stared down at his boots. “I think I can manage,” he said, reaching down for the buckles. “I wonder what....” he paused, then shook his head. “No. Don’t want to think about tomorrow,” he decided as he tugged at the buckles.

“Nope, leaving that firmly ahead of us.” Vic said as he pulled his own gear off and stretched out in bed like an overgrown cat.

“You both accuse me of being like a feline, I daresay Invictus has taken that title from me.” Fenris said as he entered the room. Anders glanced up and gave him a tired smile as he tossed his boots to one side.

“You so are a cat,” said Anders quietly. “You even purr when your ears are rubbed.” He stood up and started to peel off his pants, nearly falling over.

“I have no idea what you’re speaking of, none at all.” Fenris muttered as he stripped off and crawled into bed with them.

Anders straightened up then dropped onto his stomach along the edge of the bed next to Fenris, his groan muffled by the pillow as he buried his face against the soft down-stuffed white linen.

“I heard you purring myself, you cannot deny it love.” Invictus said as he let his hand trail down the elf’s back gently.

“You heard nothing.” Fenris muttered as he arched into Vic’s touch and sighed happily.

Anders turned his head on the pillow and peered at the elf with one eye. Then he lifted a hand and lightly stroked the shell of Fenris’ ear, his touch gentle.

“Starting something?” Fenris asked softly as he tried to decide who’s touch he was going to angle towards next.

“Don’t know...you seem to be agreeable right now, arching up to our touch like a cat. Speaking of which, where is your grey terror Anders?” Vic said as he continued to lazily stroke the elf’s back.

“Hmm? I’m not sure,” said Anders as he lifted his head and glanced around. There was a small chirrup and the kitten suddenly leapt up onto the bed next to his head, batting briefly at his cheek before she jumped up to perch between the blond mage’s shoulderblades. “Hello Lady,” he smiled.

“Summoning cats is not a school of magic I’m familiar with.” Vic laughed as he watched the tiny kitten perch on his other lover.

“It’s not…” Fenris murmured softly.

Anders dropped his head back onto the pillow as he lifted his hand to stroke Fenris’ ear again, letting just the merest trickle of healing energy leak through his touch.

That drew a low moan from the elf. “No..fair.” Fenris said even as he tried to get closer to Anders touch.

“Using your powers again?” Vic laughed as he leaned down to trail kisses down Fenris’ back, nipping carefully along sun kissed skin as he avoided the lyrium marks.

Anders carefully rolled onto his side as the kitten shifted down to sit on his hip. He threaded the fingers of one hand into Fenris’ hair, fingers trailing over the elf’s scalp with a ghosting of healing energy as he continued to stroke the warrior’s ear. “Have to use all the advantages I have,” smiled Anders.

“Dirty trick to pull on me.” Fenris said in a low rasp. That didn’t keep him from arching up to meet Vic’s touches or whispering for Anders to do that again. 

Anders obliged, letting a light trickle of power flow into the elf. “Dirty trick, hmm? Seems to me you like it just fine. I can always stop if you’d rather....”

“Don’t...please.” Fenris moaned as he writhed between them. 

“I think he likes it.” Vic said as he pulled back and bit the back of Fenris’ neck softly. “So eager to please.” 

Anders let his fingers trail down Fenris’ spine, healing magic tingling along the elf’s nerves in the wake of his hand before he pressed his palm against the base of Fenris’ spine and sent a stronger pulse through the elf’s body, leaning in to press a light kiss upon Fenris’ shoulder blade as he did so.

That made Fenris jerk and moan louder under the mage’s touches. “Hope you’re both going to finish what you’ve started.” he said in a husky purr.

“What do you want, Fenris?” Anders whispered into his ear as he sent another surge through the writhing body.

“Keep doing ...th...that.” he stuttered and arched his back in pleasure. “Want...want to feel good, don’t care how.” he moaned.

Vic leaned in and nipped at the tip of Fenris’ ear before he whispered his question. “Don’t care...truly? Can we do anything we want then?”

Anders sent another pulse through Fenris as he mouthed lightly at Fenris’ shoulder. “Roll over to face me with your back to Invictus,” he suggested.

The elf did as requested, his gaze on Anders curious but not wary. He rolled his hips against Vic wantonly, a low moan escaping him as he felt the other man’s length brush against his backside.

Anders slowly kissed his way down the elf’s chest, fingers trailing lightly between swirls of lyrium as he channeled energy through his touch. He moved lower, fingers lightly brushing Fenris’ hips as he nuzzled further down before licking slowly down Fenris’ abdomen. Then his tongue darted out to swirl around the tip of the elf’s cock and he glanced back up at Fenris.

“Going to make me fall apart too soon if you keep doing that.” the elf rasped as he looked down at Anders, how he looked with his tongue against his cock, wanton and greedy. He groaned as he felt Vic’s teeth on his neck again.

“Can’t have that now can we?” the darker mage laughed before he arched up and rutted against Fenris’ ass. “Want you so much.” 

Anders’ tongue swirled around the tip of Fenris’ cock, and then in one smooth movement he swallowed him in to the root. Fenris’ member was engulfed by hot, sweet wetness as Anders’ head began to bob, maddeningly slow as he drew back then took Fenris’ length in again, the gentle press of Anders’ fingers upon the elf’s hip encouraging him.

The made the elf call his name as he started to thrust slowly, shallowly as he felt Anders taking him in. “Maker...oh ...oh.” he called out as he felt Vic move away briefly and then fingers on his ass.

“May I?” the Champion asked as he watched his lover trying to keep contact with both of them and failing. 

“Yes..ye..s.” the fighter replied before he called out Anders name in a shout. 

Anders hummed, deep in his throat, the vibrations adding a further dimension to the sensations racing through the elf’s groin with every press of the mage’s mouth and tongue against his member as his head moved faster to meet each thrust of Fenris’ hips, his fingers lightly tapping against his hip, each touch pulsing with a small burst of healing energy.

“Too much...it’s too much.” the elf cried as he felt his abdomen tensing, and his ass clenched on the fingers Vic had worked into him.

“Calm down love, it’s ok...we’ll slow down.” Vic said as he stilled his fingers and whispered to the elf. 

Anders’ hand stilled on Fenris’ hip and then he let a little more energy flow; this time it felt different - soothing and gentle rather than invigorating, as Anders kept his head still and allowed the elf to control the speed and depth of the thrusts into his mouth, letting Fenris take control again. He made a soothing sound of encouragement as his eyes flicked up to Fenris’ face.

“Sorry...it’s just intense.” the elf panted as he rolled his hips slowly, his eyes rolled closed and he relaxed so Vic could continue opening him up. 

“It’s alright.” Invictus said as he resumed his gentle strokes after he added more oil. “Who do you want to take you?” 

“Don’t...care.” the elf moaned as he lost himself to the sensations they gave him. 

Anders lifted his hand from Fenris’ hip to take Fenris’ hand in his and guide it to his hair before placing it back on the elf’s hip, trailing his fingers up and down between the swirls of lyrium soothingly, moaning faintly in the back of his throat.

He gripped Anders hair and guided his movements as he tried to stay relaxed for Vic and what he had started. 

“It’s ok, just...tell me if it’s too much alright?” Invictus said before he pulled his fingers free and slicked himself up and spread the elf’s legs. “Ready?”

“Yes.” he whined as he eased up his grip on Anders so he wouldn’t hurt him. Anders hummed encouragement even as he closed his eyes and let his healer’s senses sink into the elf’s body, keeping a light thread of healing magic flowing gently through the elf’s body. He didn’t want Fenris to feel any discomfort as the other mage entered their elven lover.

Invictus was gentle as he entered the elf, slow and steady until he was fully inside his lover. “Grab my arm if you want me to stop or slow down ok?”

“Yeah...alright.” Fenris said as he tried to not scream in pleasure. His cock was getting sucked and Vic had filled him for the first time in ages and he was almost over the edge already. “Move...dammit Vic move.” he urged.

Anders smiled as he heard the impatience in the elf’s voice and deliberately swallowed even as Invictus began to shift, rolling his hips. He kept a light healer’s touch on Fenris’ body, aware on a subconscious level of how the elf’s body was responding to their lovemaking. 

Fenris stiffened briefly at the first easy strokes from his lover, then relaxed against both men. Soon he was moaning and panting for Vic to go faster, to make him come already. 

“Relax love...want to make sure you enjoy it.” Vic gasped as he held the elf’s leg over his shoulder and stroked faster, eager to give him pleasure. 

“Healing...magic making me...oh fuck.” he whimpered as a particularly hard stroke hit that sweet spot and he called out to them both, almost wrung out with the slow, careful lovemaking from both men.

Anders could taste Fenris’ precum on his tongue and he closed his eyes as he let the magic flow a little stronger, reaching through the elf’s body to touch Invictus even as the elf thrust harder into his mouth. He relaxed his jaw so the elf could thrust deeper into his throat and hummed again, encouraging both men.

Fenris lost his fight to hold off his orgasm, panting and calling both men’s names as he felt himself starting to fill the blond’s mouth. “Can’t...hold back, sorry.” he moaned.

Vic gasped as he felt Fenris clench down on him as his orgasm hit but he waited it out, then let himself go faster, his own climax coming fast and hard as he filled the elf with his spend. 

Anders swallowed reflexively then pulled back, keeping a light touch on Fenris’ body and continuing to let the healing energy flow, easing any discomfort the elf might otherwise have felt as Invictus reached his own climax. He stared up at Fenris and smiled. “You’re beautiful, love,” he whispered.

“Not beautiful, never...m’sticky, but you haven’t had a chance yet.” Fenris slurred as he felt Vic pull back and out of him. “Want to...did such a good thing, you can you know.” he said softly as he looked down at the blond.

“Let me wash you up first.” Vic said as he sat on the bed and gently cleaned off his lover. “There.”

Anders shifted himself back up the bed and rolled onto his back, reaching out one hand to stroke the side of Fenris’ sweaty face. “No, it’s OK,” he said quietly. “I’m fine. I wish you could see yourself with my eyes, love. You’re beautiful, trust me.”

“Take your word for it.” Fenris whispered as he felt Invictus crawl past him towards Anders. 

“Such good deeds shouldn’t go unrewarded, what would you like? Afraid I can’t give you a good shag for a while but there are other things we can do.” Vic rumbled before he kissed Anders.

Anders slid a hand into Invictus’ hair and returned the kiss slowly. “Not sure I really have the strength for much,” he confessed. “That wine earlier was perhaps not a good idea; I’m tipsy and I don’t think it would take much for me to fall asleep right now.”

“Alright, I’ll owe you one.” Vic said before he nudged at Fenris to crawl under the covers. “Come on, let’s not collapse right there.” 

The elf replied with a rude phrase before he got under the covers and sighed. “Don’t ...wanna leave Anders unsatis---” he dropped off mid-sentence to sleep, his limit had been reached. 

Anders chuckled softly as he bestowed a light kiss on the sleeping elf’s nose. He glanced around, wondering where the kitten had got to, then smiled as she bounced up onto his chest, purring. 

Vic smiled as he curled around the other side of Fenris and kissed his shoulder. “That’s a new record, I don’t think I’ve seen him drop off like that before. What did you do to him?” the champion asked quietly.

“I was keeping a light touch inside - a bit like when I’m healing and I feel out where the damage is, only I was feeling for any discomfort and easing it before he was aware of it,” answered Anders. “I guess having my magic stream through him even that lightly was enough to heighten things for him.” He yawned. “Sorry, I’m pretty drained myself,” he apologised.

“Healing magic does things to him...remember when we went into the Fade? You figured out how he can be a conduit and use a mage? It had some...interesting results that night.” Invictus whispered so he wouldn't’ wake the elf sleeping between them.

“I remember,” nodded Anders. “Hmm, maybe that’s part of why I feel so drained... I don’t mind though. I gather Fenris very rarely lets himself be on the receiving end, so I wanted to make sure it was good for him.”

“Yeah, it’s been almost a year since he let me have him and then it was...not awkward, but not like tonight. Thank you.” Vic pressed a soft kiss on the elf’s cheek then curled up under the covers. “Sleep well.” 

Anders rolled over onto his side as the kitten shifted up to the pillow to curl against the back of his neck under his hair. He reached a hand across Fenris’ body to gently stroke Invictus’ face; his fingers fell limp a moment later as he dropped into an exhausted sleep.

“Last one asleep as always.” Vic murmured before he closed his eyes and fell asleep to the sound of both men snoring next to him.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go wrong on Sundermount for Arden and company, a kinky start to the day takes a bad tumble for Anders and it's time to visit Xenon

The embers of the fire were but a faint glow when Anders suddenly twitched in his sleep, awakening Fenris instantly. He was aware of Merrill shifting around the remains of the fire as Anders twitched again, whimpering in his sleep.

The elf sat up and reached over to his lover. “Anders...wake up.” 

Anders whimpered, turning his face toward the elf blindly. “No... no, please, not again,” he begged.

“Anders, come on wake up. You’re safe.” Fenris said in his ear, his voice a low rumble. 

Anders’ eyes flew open and he clutched at Fenris with a gasp as Merrill prodded the fire and stirred it up, adding more wood. “Love?” he murmured in a bewildered tone, then buried his face against Fenris’ chest. “So tired of this,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright love.” Fenris said quietly. “Don’t be sorry, not at all.” the elf mumbled as he held Anders close to him and tried to soothe the blond. 

Arden sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly as Hal stirred. “What’s happening?” asked the Champion as he glanced around, eyes bleary. “What time is it?”

“Still my watch, Hawke,” said Merrill. “Anders had a bad dream is all.” She regarded the blond apostate with a worried look as she put a pot of water onto the rekindled fire to boil.

“Just rest love, please.” Fenris said softly as he let Anders rest against him and calm down from his nightmare.

Anders let his head drop back onto the bedroll. “There was a demon,” he mumbled. “In the mirror. Mirror was bleeding....”

Arden frowned, exchanging a glance with Fenris. “Just a dream love,” he said quietly. “Just try and go back to sleep, it’s....” His voice tailed off as he glanced over at Hal. “Fenris,” he muttered, voice strangled. He jerked his head in the direction of the red-haired mage, who had rolled over. The firelight glistened off the trail of blood that wound down the side of Hal’s face from his closed eyes and smeared around his mouth.

“No…” Fenris gasped and ran over to Hal. “No, come on don’t do this.” he pleaded.

Hal coughed, a fresh trickle of blood creeping from the corner of his mouth as his eyes fluttered open. “Chest... hurts,” he murmured. “Cold....”

“What happened? Why are you like this?” Fenris asked as he looked towards Arden and Anders in worry. 

“Anders, Hal needs you!” said Arden as he helped Fenris lift Hal into a reclining position against the elf’s chest.

“The other Hawke... they broke the Eluvian in Merrill’s home,” Hal murmured. “I had to sever the connections from the Fade, but... there was a backlash. It... hurt,” he moaned. “Is... this what Flemeth meant? Am... I the weapon?”

Anders had sat up at Arden’s urging and he came around the fire to crouch beside the red-haired mage, reaching one hand up to his forehead as the other rested on a cold pale hand. He closed his eyes then shook his head, frowning. “I don’t like the feel of this,” he said darkly. “It’s... it feels as though something has drained some of his life away. I can try and heal him, but without knowing what’s caused this....” He closed his eyes again and his hands glowed with blue healing energy as he poured magic into the other mage.

Hal’s breathing eased and he drew a deeper breath. “Am I going to die?” he asked quietly.

“Not if I can help it,” muttered Anders.

“Can you do anything?” Fenris asked as he sat back on his heels and watched Anders work.

“I don’t know,” answered Anders. “Without knowing what’s caused this? All I can do is try and heal the damage done inside.”

“Alright.” Fenris muttered as he watched him. 

Anders sat back and stared down at Hal. “How do you feel now?” he asked.

“Tired. Cold,” said Hal as he stared up at the blond apostate. “Afraid.”

“We’re with you,” said Arden gently. “You’ll be OK.”

Anders’ head jerked up and he frowned, but said nothing.

“Here,” said Merrill as she pressed a cup of hot tea into Anders’ hands then passed a cup to Fenris before pouring for Hal and Arden. 

“Thank you.” Fenris took it and sipped automatically as he watched the mages work, his heart in his throat as he worried for Hal.

Hal managed a few mouthfuls of tea then lay back, staring listlessly into the fire as Arden pulled a spare blanket out of his pack and draped it over the red-head. Hal’s eyes fluttered closed and he settled back into sleep a short while later.

“I don’t like this,” said Anders quietly as he stared into his mug of tea.

“She did that to him, she’s killed him hasn’t she?” Fenris muttered. 

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” vowed Anders. He glanced at Fenris. “I’m not going to sit by and watch him die, love.”

“What if you can’t fix it?” the elf said forlornly. 

“Maybe he was always living on borrowed time,” said Arden quietly, his expression sad as he stared at the sleeping mage. “First Tranquil... when most mages would rather die. And then joined to the spirit of a dead mage. Maybe he was never meant-”

“Shut up!” said Anders fiercely as he glared at Arden. “Just shut up! I won’t hear another word, you hear me? I’m not going to let him die. It was my idea in the first place - joining with a spirit. And I’m not going to stand by and watch him die all over again. I’m a spirit healer and I will do my damnedest to keep him alive through this, and to the Void with Flemeth and her damned scheming!”

“Stop yelling.” Fenris said before he jumped up and ran out to get some air at the cave’s entrance.

Anders buried his head in his hands. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered. 

“It’s OK,” said Arden quietly. “You’re still jittery from the nightmare and this has shaken us all up.”

Merrill glanced toward the cave entrance. “He’s really upset,” she said quietly.

Anders got to his feet. “I’ll go after him,” he said quietly, and headed after the elf.

He approached Fenris quietly. “I’m sorry, love,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“It’s alright, I guess all of this has me on edge. I shouldn’t have let it get to me. Forgive me, but I need a little time to calm down.” Fenris said. 

Anders leaned against the wall of the cave entrance, his long arms wrapped around himself. “I understand,” he said quietly. “Fenris... I won’t let Hal die. I swear it. None of this was his fault, and I’m damned if I’m going to let that witch condemn him like this. I’ll find a way to break whatever she’s done. I won’t let him die.”

“Don’t make a promise you might not be able to keep. You have no idea what she did to him, nor if you can reverse it.” Fenris said quietly.

“I have to try,” said Anders, a note of desperation in his voice. 

“I know, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.” the elf said softly. 

“If I’d never....” Anders groaned as he rubbed his eyes with a hand, tiredly. “I put the idea into his head of joining with a spirit. I cannot, will not regret that. It brought him back from Tranquility. But I will not let Flemeth destroy him. I can’t. He has to live, to have the life that the templars tried to deny him.”

“I know you’ll try. I’m up, you should get some sleep.” the elf muttered tiredly. 

Anders pulled himself to his feet and stumbled over to the elf, wrapping his arms around him as he buried his face against Fenris’ shoulder. “I’m sorry love,” he whispered, before pulling away and stumbling back toward the cave entrance, catching himself with one hand braced against the rough stone, head bowed.

Fenris sighed and leaned against the cave wall, his eyes closed as he let his thoughts run free for a while, let the sounds of the others moving around wash over him as he tried to keep calm.

The sounds lessened as Anders curled up in his bedroll and dropped back into an exhausted but restless sleep, Arden falling asleep soon after.

Merrill came out with another mug of tea perhaps an hour later, handing it to Fenris silently.

“I thought perhaps I should leave Hal to sleep,” she said softly. “I don’t mind taking two watches.” She glanced at the other elf. “I don’t think you could sleep either right now, could you?” She stared out across the plateau. “The sun will be up soon.” She fell silent. 

Fenris took the mug and said nothing. He was tired of her digs at him, assuming he had no feelings, or her surprise over his tears. He wanted to be left alone, but of course that was not to be.

“Hal doesn’t deserve this,” she said quietly. “He’s too... nice.” She glanced at Fenris, then away. “You’ll... take care of him, won’t you?” 

“Why are you talking to me? It’s clear you hate me, and think me incapable of normal emotions.” Fenris said in a low growl, his frustration and anger at the situation seeped out into his words. 

“I saw your face when you saw him bleeding,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t the face of someone incapable of emotion. It was the face of someone who thought someone they cared about was hurt.” She stared out toward the east, where the merest glimmering of the false dawn painted pale grey across the dark sky. “And if I hated you I wouldn’t be standing here.”

“I’ve spent too much time around people who give not one damn if I live or die who would smile in my face right before they decided to stab me in the back or turn me over to my master for discipline. I will never trust someone’s sincerity simply because of proximity.” Fenris replied as he evaded her other words.

Merrill turned and stared at him. “Your master is dead and I would just as soon spit in his face as deign to talk to him were he still alive,” she said coldly. “And you need to start trusting in people’s actions more than words. If I hated you that much then why am I standing here talking to you? Why did I bring you tea? Why would I even look at you?” She sniffed. “You think you’re the only one who can-” She broke off and threw her hands up. “I don’t know why I even bother talking to you,” she muttered, and strode away across the plateau toward the cliff edge.

“Nor do I.” he said crossly as he remained to watch the dawn greet them, his gaze hard and his heart torn.

Merrill sat by the edge of the cliff, her arms wrapped around her knees as she watched the sun rise, singing softly to herself as tears ran down her face.

Fenris heard her but didn’t move from his spot even as the sun came up. If he noticed the tear tracks, he said nothing as she went by him.

Anders and Arden emerged from the cave a little while later, Hal stumbling between them, his arms draped over their shoulders as they helped him walk. Merrill disappeared into the cave to re-emerge shortly after with Hal’s pack and staff slung on her back next to her own staff.

“We need to get back to Kirkwall as quickly as possible,” said Arden. “Invictus is going to the Black Emporium to destroy the other Eluvian. We need to shatter the one in our Kirkwall at the same time.”

“I’ll bring up the rear, in case something comes up behind us.” Fenris replied, his gaze on the three men and not the Dalish elf in their group. 

Merrill glanced at him, sighed quietly and moved to take point.

As they made their way slowly down Sundermount, the whole mountain seemed unnaturally quiet. Anders glanced down often at Hal, his expression dark, whilst Arden concentrated on the path. The red-haired mage seemed exhausted and they needed to pause often for him to catch his breath.

On one such halt, Arden helped Hal to sit then moved over to join Fenris. “I don’t like this,” he said quietly, glancing around the rocky hillside. 

“Which part? Where Hal woke up bleeding from the face, we nearly lost ourselves or the dead silence on the mountain?” Fenris said gruffly. 

Arden gave him a sharp look. “It’s too quiet,” he said. “And Hal is weakening. I’m afraid we may need to carry him if he gets much worse.”

“Then we carry him and be on our guard. I want off this mountain, it’s ...unnatural.” Fenris replied with less bite in his tone.

Anders glanced up from where he crouched next to Hal. “I’m not sure what else I can do to help him,” he said, a note of frustration in his voice. “I’ve healed him and cast invigorate on him, but... it’s like there’s something inside I can’t touch that’s undoing my work.”

“Do we need to carry him?” Fenris asked solemnly. 

“I can walk,” said Hal weakly. “I just need to catch my breath.” 

“Perhaps I can...check for other kinds of magic at work?” Merrill offered from her spot by Anders. 

Anders glanced at her. “It’s nothing I recognise,” he said slowly. “If it were blood magic I would know, trust me. This is... it’s nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“I see, sorry.” Merrill said with a glance at Fenris, surprised the other elf didn’t take a chance to get another dig in at her.

Fenris rolled his eyes and turned away to look down the path ahead. “How long until we get to town?” 

“At the speed we’ve been going? Most of the day,” replied Arden.

“We won’t make it back before Hawke smashes the mirror in the Black Emporium, I fear what will happen when he does destroy it.” Fenris replied.

“If we don’t destroy the one in our Kirkwall, the Forgotten One will escape through it when Invictus smashes the other one,” said Hal. “It will have no choice. We have to cut off both avenues of escape at the same time.”

“Right, that’s it,” decided Arden. “We need to carry you, Hal. We don’t have the time to spare.”

Anders stood and unslung his staff as Arden did likewise; they swiftly fashioned a stretcher between the two staffs with blankets. Hal protested as they lifted him up, but his protests were weak and short-lived. 

“Come on, let’s get down as quickly as we can,” said Arden. “Fenris, we need you on point.”

“Of course.” the elf said as he glanced at Hal then his lovers. “Can you keep up if I go quickly?”

Anders frowned, concentrating, and then a moment later they all felt the familiar sensation of a Haste spell tingling over their skin. “Go,” he said tersely.

Fenris led them down the mountain at a quick pace, fast enough that he was panting by the time they reached the foot of it and he needed to stop for a moment. “Can you go on once we catch our breath?” he asked them.

Anders and Arden laid down the stretcher and Anders doubled over, bracing his hands on his thighs as he gasped for breath. After a moment he straightened up and cast rejuvenate on them all, the energy racing through their bodies before he renewed the Haste spell. “I’m not sure how long I can keep this up,” he said. 

Arden crouched down next to the stretcher. “Hal’s out cold,” he said, worry in his voice. “I can’t wake him.”

“What do you mean? Is he..breathing?” Fenris asked as he knelt down by them. “Come on, don’t do this, don’t take him from us.” he whispered. 

Hal was unconscious, his face blank and pale, his breathing slow and steady almost as though he were sleeping. He didn’t stir as Arden shook him again.

“No response,” said Arden, shaking his head.

“Could he be... you know, in the Fade?” asked Merrill? “Gone... on ahead maybe?”

“He’s not just sleeping is he?” Fenris said haltingly. He sat next to Anders and took his hand in his. “Do something.” he pleaded. Anders stared at him, then glanced back at Hal. He raised Fenris’ hand to his lips and gently kissed the lyrium-lined fingers before rising and making his way to Hal’s side. Dropping to his knees next to the unconscious mage, he closed his eyes and laid his hands upon Hal’s chest and forehead, closing his eyes.

He was still for long moments, his head dropping lower as his frown deepened. He murmured something faint and inaudible, shaking his head, then the glow around his hands intensified as blue-white fire broke out along fine cracks in his skin. Arden glanced at Fenris with alarm.

“What, what is it?” the elf asked in a low whisper, his eyes wide with a mix of alarm and fear.

Anders lifted his head but it was the blue glow of Justice’s gaze that met Fenris’ eyes. “ _He waits between the worlds,_ ” the spirit said in as hushed a voice as they had ever heard. “ _We have not much time. Invictus will not wait and cannot hear us._ ”

“Then what do we do now?” Fenris said as he inched back out of instinctual fear of the spirit. 

Justice rose, lifting the unconscious Hal in his arms as the blue-white fire blazed brighter, the cracks spreading across Anders’ skin and shining through his clothes. “ _WE RUN._ ”

Fenris nodded and looked to Arden and Merrill. “Guess it’s Haste and Rejuvenate until we reach the city.” 

Arden cast swiftly upon them and they sped on, desperation lending fleetness to their feet.

**

Vic came around slowly, his gaze unfocused as he felt a gap in the bed between them where Fenris had fallen swiftly asleep. “How can he get out of bed before us when we wore him out?” he grumbled.

Anders mumbled something incoherent as he shifted slightly, face buried in the pillow. 

“Morning sleepyhead.” Vic said as he filled the vacant space and caressed the blond’s cheek gently. Anders turned his head slightly, following the touch, his eyes still closed. 

“What time is it?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.

“Not sure, woke up between the bells.” Vic replied softly as he let his fingers card through the dark blond strands. “You’re as much a cat as you accuse Fenris of being one you know.” he huffed.

Anders smiled sleepily. “Except I’ve never denied it,” he said as he opened one amber eye a slit. “Mmm. That’s nice.”

“My two lovers are cats. Who would have thought a mabari lover would wind up like this?” Vic mused as he continued to caress the other mage.

“Keep doing that and I may just drift off to sleep again,” murmured Anders with a dreamy smile.

“I had other plans in mind, that did not involve you sleeping.” Vic purred in his ear before he leaned down to nip at the mage’s ear. “Assuming you are up for such things.”

Anders gasped at the touch of teeth. “I.... might be persuaded,” he muttered, a slight hitch in his breath betraying his interest.

“What might I interest you in serah? A slow, hard shag to start the day or perhaps my mouth?” Vic said. Anders’ breath quickened as he lifted his head slightly, his amber eyes darkening as he stared back over his shoulder at the other mage. 

“Which would you prefer?” he asked softly.

“Both, maybe you get a turn at shagging me for a change?” Vic said with a leer at his bed mate. “Maybe let Fenris hear us, entice him back to bed before we have to deal with the day?”

Anders’ lips curved into a devious smile. “Maybe I should put that leather vest back on and let you tie me to the bed. See how fast he comes running then.” He winked.

“He’d knock me over to get at you probably.” Vic laughed as he turned to his back and urged the other man to straddle him. “Or you could tie me up and tell him he has a present waiting in bed.”

Anders sat up and swung his leg over Invictus’ hips then pouted down. “I seem to recall it was you two having all the fun last night and poor little Anders being the one neglected,” he pointed out.

“Well I need to make up for it then. Do you want to find the rope and get your vest? Maybe make him watch while I enjoy you? Make you cry out for release under me? What does Anders want of me hmm?” Vic’s eyes had darkened and he rolled his hips so the blond could feel just how much he wanted to play.

Anders leaned down over Invictus, reaching up to pull his hair tie out then shake his hair loose before leaning in to whisper in Invictus’ ear. “Feel up to a little rough play love?” he breathed. “Let me slip into the vest whilst you fetch Fenris. I want you to both tackle me and tie me up, and then show me just what you do to naughty apostates at your mercy.” He grinned then bit Invictus’ ear, not quite hard enough to draw blood but rather harder than was strictly necessary. “And don’t you dare go easy on me,” he added before rolling away out of Invictus’ reach with a chuckle.

“Keep talking like that and I won’t get Fenris, I’ll just tie you down and keep you to myself.” the darker mage said with a leer.

Anders turned where he stood beside the bed and arched an eyebrow. “Big words. Going to back them up?” he taunted.

“Yes, be ready.” Vic growled before he left to find Fenris. “Love, where are you?” 

Anders waited until he’d gone before stripping swiftly then lacing himself into the leather vest. He stood near the foot of the bed, weight resting on the balls of his feet as he waited, body tensed and ready. He smiled to himself; he wasn’t going to make it easy for either Invictus or Fenris to pin him down. He figured it was time he reminded his two lovers that he was once a Grey Warden.

Fenris popped his head out of the study. “Finally up I see.” he smiled at Invictus and came out to greet him.

“Yes, and you need to come to our room. There’s a present waiting for you.” He smirked before he kissed the elf good morning. 

“What are you up to Vic?” Fenris rumbled.

“Come on, you’ll see love.” Invictus answered as he tugged Fenris behind him and opened the door, his breath caught at the expression on Anders’ face. 

Anders stood naked save for the leather vest laced up tight, his hands held loosely by his sides, one eyebrow arching in a challenge as the two men entered before he slowly grinned. He lifted one hand and beckoned to them. 

“Take me down if you can,” he grinned.

Fenris glanced at Invictus, then back at the blond mage. Without warning he suddenly dove for Anders’ waist, but Anders dropped to one knee, catching Fenris’ arm as the elf grabbed for him. He twisted and suddenly Fenris found himself flipped over Anders’ hip and his back slammed into the carpeted floor as the mage slipped away, his back to the other mage.

Invictus flung his arm around Anders’ neck, grabbing the blond apostate’s left wrist and yanking it up behind Anders’ back. “Too easy,” he growled in Anders’ ear, but the apostate was laughing. He dropped his centre of balance, sweeping a leg back to knock Invictus’ ankle out from under him as he threw himself backwards on top of the darker mage. As they landed, Anders was already twisting, using his wrist in Invictus’ grasp to pivot about and suddenly it was Invictus’ arm that was trapped in an armlock as the mage dropped an elbow into the dark mage’s stomach, just enough to wind him but not cause actual harm. The apostate rolled away with a laugh, coming to his feet as Fenris launched himself at the tall man once more.

Anders went down on his back, but somehow he twisted as he fell so that Fenris slammed onto his back with the Grey Warden straddling his hips. “Come on, this is too easy!” taunted the blond mage. “Stop holding back on me!” He leaped back, allowing the elf up again.

“Vic you didn’t say I’d have to work this hard for my present.” Fenris huffed as he stood up and helped Vic up.

“I didn’t think he’d put up this much of a fight.” the Champion replied before he used a weak Force spell to hold Anders in place.

“That’s more like it,” growled the apostate as he cast a counterspell to dispell Invictus’ work, throwing a mild spirit bolt at him as he ducked to one side. “Come on, there are two of you!” he teased them. “I could run rings round you!”

“You’re gonna get it.” Fenris growled before he used his abilities to ghost behind Anders and wrap his arms around his waist. “Never taunt me.” he hissed as he tightened his grip.

“Oh you are in for it now.” Vic used a paralysis spell on him, weak enough to keep him still but not enough to do damage. Anders gasped as Fenris’ arms tightened, unable to do much more than struggle weakly as the spell bound him. His eyes flashed defiance as he panted, watching Invictus with dark eyes, waiting to see what they would do with him.

 

“Look what we caught love.” Vic panted as he came up to them and tilted Anders head to the side, his expression haughty. “Bad apostate, making us work so hard for our fun. I think you ought to pay for that don’t you?”

Anders merely grinned. “Bite me,” he growled, the look in his eyes promising there was fight still left in him and they would be foolish to let their guards down just yet.

“If you insist.” Vic said before he tilted the blond’s head further and sunk his teeth into the spot where neck and shoulder met, right above the seam of the vest.

Anders cried out in pain, then groaned. “Maker,” he breathed.

“No, just Invictus will do.” he smirked and wrapped his fingers around Anders throat, just enough to show he was not to be trifled with. “I’m going to get something to tie you up with and you’re going to pay for this little chase. That bite was nothing compared to what we’re going to do with you.”

Anders’ eyes widened as Invictus’ hand gripped his throat warningly, a flicker of arousal in his eyes as he returned the other mage’s stare wordlessly.

Fenris snarled behind Anders. “Don’t get too many ideas mage, you might just get what you asked for today.” the elf dragged the taller human to the bed and sat on his back so he could keep him pinned down. “Behave and you might get a treat.”

Anders’ breathing was ragged and he curled his fingers into the down comforter beneath him as he felt the paralysis spell wearing off. He twisted his head to one side, trying to see what Invictus was up to. He licked his lips nervously.

Invictus gathered some silken rope and motioned for Fenris to let Anders arms free. “Don’t struggle any more or it will go much worse for you.” 

“Is that a promise?” breathed Anders, a rebellious look in his eyes as he jerked his head to flick blond hair out of his face.

“Don’t test us.” Fenris snarled. 

Anders laughed, and abruptly twisted, managing to loop a leg around Fenris’ waist and half-reversing their positions. “Or you’ll what?” he panted with a grin. 

Fenris snarled at him and struggled to free himself. “You are making this worse for yourself Anders.” the elf gasped at how firmly he was kept still and he glared at the blond, his eyes dark and his mood fluctuating between aroused and infuriated.

“Bad apostate...very, very bad apostate.” Vic murmured as he tugged Anders head back by his hair. “Let him go.”

Anders merely grinned. “Make me,” he dared the other mage. He wanted to see just how far he could push them both, and how far they would go to restrain him.

Vic pulled his head back further and growled low and deep. “I believe I said let go, fun is fun but you’re about to cross a line with Fenris that may be hard to go back from.” The Champion glanced to the elf who wasn’t struggling anymore but seemed like he was on the brink of using violence to free himself rather than just ghosting out from the hold.

Anders relaxed his hold on the elf and held still, his neck beginning to protest at the strain of being held back as he kept his gaze on Invictus.

Fenris moved away and sat across from them, his breathing was too fast and he was trying to calm down. Being restrained wasn’t something he liked in their play and it was almost overwhelming to find Anders could do that to him.

Anders lay still, his head held in place by Invictus’ hand in his hair, waiting for the other mage to make the next move.

“Love are you ok?” he asked Fenris quietly. He let go of Anders and looked over to see how Fenris was holding up. Anders turned his head to stare at the elf, his own breathing rough and uneven. “Did I go too far?” he asked, his voice subdued.

“Don’t like being restrained like that. You didn’t know.” Fenris rasped as he held himself away from them. “You two have fun, I need space.” 

Anders rolled onto his side with a groan, his expression remorseful. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t know Anders, I’m sorry to do this...I just need some space. How about you get started, and I’ll join you in a bit?” Fenris said softly.

“We can wait love, it’s alright.” Vic said as he knelt next to Fenris.

Anders slumped a little, his amber eyes troubled. He stretched out a hand toward Fenris but stopped short of touching him.

“I’m not made of glass dammit.” Fenris snarled and tugged Anders towards him. Anders pushed himself up onto his knees and shifted forward, reaching up to stroke the side of Fenris’ face. He leaned in to hesitantly press a light kiss to the corner of the elf’s mouth then gently kissed along the line of his jaw. He nuzzled Fenris’ ear lightly with his nose, afraid the elf might pull away; wanting to put his arms around the elf but afraid of rejection, all too aware he’d crossed a line in his willfulness.

“It’s ok, I’m just...a little worked up. You didn’t know, it’s ok.” Fenris kissed him softly. “Just...don’t hold me down and keep me down.” the elf said quietly.

“I’m an idiot,” Anders breathed. “I should have paid attention when you stopped fighting me. Maker, I’m such an ass.”

“Stop castigating yourself. Unless you want me to tie you up and leave you in bed until Fenris is back in the mood.” Vic warned.

Anders glanced at him then shifted back to sit upon his heels, holding out his wrists. “Do it,” he said quietly.

“What?” Vic said in shock. “I was being facetious.”

“I’m not. Do it.” He stared at Invictus.

“Give me the rope then if you won’t do it.” Fenris said as he snagged the loop from Invictus and shoved Anders back to the bed. “Spread eagle, don’t move.” 

“Fenris...is that a good idea? You ...seem angry.” Invictus said as he watched the elf bind Anders in an x formation across their bed. 

“I’m not angry, just...determined.” he replied as he sat back and admired his handiwork.

Anders tested the tightness of his bonds cautiously. The rope was tight around his wrists and ankles, though not so tight as to impede his circulation. Even the silken rope might chafe if he strained too hard against his bonds, but for now he was comfortable if somewhat more immobile than he’d anticipated. He glanced at Invictus, then stared at Fenris.

“Good boy, we’ll be back after breakfast.” Fenris slid off him and waved to Invictus to follow him.

Anders’ breath hitched in his chest. They were leaving him alone. He stared up at the canopy of the bed.

It could have been worse, he reminded himself. They hadn’t blindfolded him. They would be coming back. He just had to be patient and wait.

The room was silent with them gone. He wondered idly what the time was. With the bedroom door closed, he couldn’t hear anything beyond the sound of his own breathing and the faint sound of dripping coming from somewhere he couldn’t work out. Still, the bed was comfortable and he felt fairly relaxed. He tugged a little on the ropes binding his wrists. There was a little slack but not much, but if he just simply lay inert then there was no strain on his shoulders. Maybe it could even be enjoyable. He pondered simply dozing until they came back.

Oh Maker, no. He could feel a small itch just below his left shoulder blade. He gritted his teeth. He could ignore it, it was fine. It was just a small itch. Almost a burning, but he could ignore it. He was fine. 

He arched his back a little and tried to shrug his left shoulder, but the satin cover of the comforter didn’t offer enough friction to really scratch against through the leather vest and the strain in his arm distracted him from trying any harder. He huffed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes and stared up at the canopy. _I’m fine_ , he reminded himself. They wouldn’t be gone long. He could ignore an itch. After all, he’d handled a year in solitary; what was a few minutes on a soft bed? Even if his shoulder itched.

 _Forget the shoulder._ A few minutes. That would be all. Wouldn’t it? They wouldn’t leave him alone here for long. Maybe an hour, tops. He could handle an hour. He was fine, apart from the itch in his shoulder and _Maker_ , but that was starting to drive him -

He drew a deep breath. “I’m fine,” he told himself. He closed his eyes and tried counting backwards from a hundred in Tevene in his head but he lost count somewhere around 37. He had to start over again. He sighed, and began again at a hundred, but after a while his mind wandered, distracted by the infrequent dripping sound and he realised he’d lost count again. He made a small sound of frustration and started over again, but it wasn’t long before he got confused and lost count yet again, and anyway with his eyes closed it was too like -

He opened his eyes wide, aware his heart was starting to race, his breath coming a little faster. How long had it been? Ten, fifteen minutes? Longer? He had no way of telling. The curtains were still closed, the room lit by a muted red glow of sun through the heavy velvet. The shadows played tricks on his eyes, the shapes of furniture indistinct. The air was heavy.

He was sweating. The itch was a steady burn that he couldn’t relieve, no matter how he writhed against the down comforter. It was starting to ruck up uncomfortably beneath him, and his wrists and ankles were growing sore where he’d twisted and strained against the rope. He lay back against the bed and drew a slow breath, consciously counting his heartbeats in an effort to calm his heartbeat. He felt a little dizzy and light-headed; had he been hyperventilating? He breathed in slowly for a count of five, held it for five heartbeats, then slowly exhaled again. Then again. Then again. The vest was too tight; it was getting hard to breathe.

The dripping sound seemed abnormally loud and magnified as he lay there, helpless, no idea how long it had been since they had left him alone. He tried to tune it out but it was no good. The sound was erratic, unpredictable. It grated on his nerves. If it had been a regular pattern he could have tuned it out, but it intruded on his thoughts.

How long now? Twenty minutes? Thirty? His mouth was dry. He licked his lips; they felt parched and sore. He was thirsty. The dripping noise seemed to taunt him now, and all he could think of was cool water and how thirsty he felt, tongue swollen in a dry mouth. He stared up at the bed canopy but it seemed blurred. he blinked, and felt tears roll down the side of his face. He was crying. Why was he crying? _Maker, no. I won’t cry. I won’t!_ But he couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down his face.

His arms ached, the pain sharp across his shoulders as he arched his back, tugging hard on the ropes, trying to find some relief from the abominable itching in his shoulder blade. The pain ached down his spine and he could feel a cramp starting in one leg from lying immobile so long.There was a dull ache in the small of his back; the old familiar pain that never quite went away. Karl had told him once it was because he was so tall and they’d laughed. He tried to laugh now but it came out as more of a strangled sob, and then he felt another rising in his chest.

He gasped and choked it back. How long would they leave him alone? He glanced over toward the door, biting his lip as he fought to hold on to his control. How long had it been now? Forty minutes? Fifty? An hour? He felt panic rising in his chest. _They’ve forgotten me. They’re not coming back. They’ve gone to the Black Emporium without me._ The vest was too tight. He couldn’t breathe. He panicked, hyperventilating, his breath coming as shallow, frightened gasps.

He was whimpering. He tasted blood in his mouth; he’d bitten his lip too hard, and now all he could taste was the coppery tang of his blood, sharp and nauseating. He could hear a faint whining sound coming from somewhere; he wasn’t sure how long it had been going on when he suddenly realised it was him, the sound was coming from him, and Maker but he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t stand this, it was too much. He wanted to beg, to plead for them to come back but he was afraid. Afraid there was no-one to hear, that he was completely alone.

He closed his eyes and let the sobs come. He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care if they heard. He just didn’t want to be alone anymore. He couldn’t bear the silence.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he wept. “I’ll be good, just please, don’t leave me here, don’t - not like this - please....”

Fenris entered the room after he heard the mage’s whimpering. “Shhh, it’s ok I’m sorry. We’re here now.” He untied Anders and kissed him gently. “I...I’m sorry I didn’t think it would do this to you.”

Anders curled into a ball, still murmuring almost incoherent pleas as he sobbed. “I’ll be good, I’ll be good, just... d-don’t....”

“Calm down, please calm down. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t go far, Vic will be here soon with food. Please Anders, look at me, it’s ok I’m here now.” Fenris tipped his face towards him and pressed soft kisses to the mages face. “I’m here now love.”

“I can’t bear to be left alone like that,” Anders breathed, eyes red with tears. “I-I can handle almost anything but that.”

“I’m here now, it’s ok. I’m sorry, please forgive me. I was being an ass to get back at you, I’m sorry.” Fenris murmured as he pulled the covers over them both and held Anders to his chest. “We both messed up today, I’m sorry.”

“We are definitely even,” said Anders, his voice still shaky. “Maker, but that....” He scrubbed at his face with a hand. “The worst of it was that I couldn’t tell how long I was alone. You’ll laugh, but... m-my back, it started to itch....” He tried to giggle, but it was tinged with hysteria. “How stupid is that? An itch.”

“It’s not stupid. One time I was locked away by Danarius for a week. No one saw me except to slide food in a slot in the door. I was pleading, begging for the whip, anything just not the silence of my cell within three days.” Fenris admitted as he held the mage close.

“After my penultimate escape from the Tower, I was in solitary for a year,” said Anders quietly, subdued. “It was... almost a welcome relief when the templars came for me.” He turned his face to hide against Fenris’ chest. “I’m glad you came back,” he whispered.

“I was always coming back, I wasn’t leaving forever, and I’m sorry I did that to you.” Fenris said as he rubbed soothing circles on Anders back, his voice low and soft. “Forgive my thoughtlessness, please.”

“I forgive you,” whispered Anders. “Am... I also forgiven?”

“Of course.” the elf said before he kissed his mage again.

Anders’ trembling slowly eased and little by little, his body relaxed against the elf until he was resting limply against Fenris, his head drooping as his breathing slowed.

“I’m so stupid.” Fenris muttered to himself in annoyance as he listened to Anders calm under his grip.

Anders murmured something incomprehensible as his head dropped back, eyes closed; he was slipping into an exhausted doze.

Fenris closed his eyes and curled up with Anders, dropping off to sleep before Invictus returned with a tray of food for them. 

“Well I guess the fun is over before it got started, damn.” the mage muttered as he set the tray down and nibbled on some toast as he debated whether to wake them for breakfast. 

Anders stirred a little, head turning slightly though his eyes remained closed.

“There’s food if you want it, I’ll bring some over.” Vic offered to the blond. Anders opened his eyes; they seemed dull and lacklustre as he blinked dazedly and then slowly focused on Invictus.

He levered himself up on one elbow, rubbing his eyes with his other hand; his wrist looked chafed and sore, the skin broken in a couple of spots. “Water please,” he mumbled.

Vic poured him a glass and touched it so a bit of frost appeared on the bottom. “There you go, are you two alright?” he asked tentatively.

Anders took the glass and downed it thirstily, draining the glass before speaking. “You both left me alone,” he said quietly. He glanced up at Invictus, his eyes haunted. “I... I told you, once, that I didn’t mind being tied up, but... but not to blindfold me, or leave me alone. Do you remember?”

Invictus looked down, his face hot with shame. “I didn’t remember, I’m sorry. I thought Fenris was going to just be gone for a little while, five, or ten minutes at most. I...I have no excuse besides thoughtlessness.” 

“I don’t know how long I was on my own, but it was... too long.” He sat up slowly, wincing as his back and shoulders protested. “So I guess I paid my penance for going too far earlier.” He moved slowly, in obvious discomfort as he reached for a piece of toast. “What time is it?”

Vic reached out to him and arched an eyebrow to ask permission. 

Fenris had shifted at the sound of their voices and the smell of sausage and fried potatoes. “Can’t be later than the eighth or ninth bell.” he mumbled.

Anders stared at Invictus’ hand then nodded, lowering his head as he sighed. He plucked at the laces of the vest. “This thing is too damned tight, I can’t breathe,” he muttered.

Fenris reached out to undo his laces so he could get out of it. “Sorry...I’ll understand if you don’t want to play like that anymore.” he said from his cocoon of blankets.

Vic touched the mages shoulder and let healing magic flow through him, seeping into his sore muscles as an apology for his forgetfulness. “Better?”

Anders took a deep breath as the vest came off, then rolled his shoulders with a thankful groan. “Much,” he agreed. “I... don’t think I’m in the mood for games right now, sorry.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Is it me or is it stuffy in here?” He glanced around the shadowed room.

Fenris shrugged and crawled out of bed to get a plate for Anders. He felt terrible about the way he’d made the mage panic and it showed as he offered him a full plate and fork. “Here.”

Anders took the plate and began to eat slowly, keeping his eyes on the plate. The room felt too warm and stuffy, almost claustrophobic, and he had to close his eyes against a brief wave of dizziness.

“Anders what’s wrong? You nearly fell over just now.” Vic said as he sat on the bed and tugged the covers down so the blond was covered from the waist down. “That cover can be too warm, I’ll get a thinner blanket if you want. Or we can get going to pick up Merrill on the way to the Emporium.” he offered. 

Anders laid down the fork and nodded as another wave of dizziness swept over him. “I think I need some air,” he said faintly. “It feels... too....” He swooned.

Fenris jumped up and caught him before he could slide off the bed. “Open a window Vic.” he said as he laid Anders down and pulled the heavy coverlet down so the mage could cool off. “Maybe you should go with Merrill and I’ll stay to take care of him.” 

“No, remember the demons, and who knows what might happen when we shatter that thing. Something worse might come out of it and I will not take just Merrill, she can’t heal and neither can I. Let’s just get him settled then we go maybe in an hour or so.” Vic said as he rose to open a window and let cooler air into their room.

As the breeze from the window washed over Anders, he began to revive a little, his eyelids fluttering slightly. He murmured something Fenris couldn’t quite hear.

“What was that?” Fenris asked as he poured more water for the blond mage and held the glass to his lips. 

“Endrin,” murmured Anders. “Heard him....” He sipped the water, colour slowly returning to his face.

“What do you mean heard him?” Invictus asked. “How can you hear him without you know...Justice?” 

“I don’t know,” said Anders, sounding confused. “Just before everything went black I thought I heard him talking to me. Something about Hal, and the mirror....” He raised a hand to his head. “What happened? Did I faint?”

“You swooned, I thought it was because you were too hot.” Fenris murmured as he held the glass up again.

“Hal...I wonder if they figured out how to destroy the mirrors in their world. Hal mentioned something about a weapon and Flemeth.” Vic muttered as he started to pace.

“The room felt very close and stuffy,” said Anders. “I felt as though I couldn’t breathe properly, even with the vest off. Claustrophobic.” He glanced over toward the window. “It was... like being in a cave. Trapped.” He shivered.

“I’m sorry.” Fenris said again before he rose to put the glass back on the table. “I’m going to wash up then we should try to get this over with soon.” he said before he slipped from the room.

Anders sat up slowly. “I think getting outside will do me the world of good, even if it’s to go visit that creepy Emporium,” he remarked. “Xenon makes my flesh crawl.” 

“Me too but I’d rather not deal with this without you both at my side. Once he’s done sulking I’ll get a wash in or we could share a quick, cool bath since you were overheated. “I’ll behave, no more being naughty until you’re ready for it.” Vic said solemnly. He stared at where Fenris had gone and sighed. “He’s going to beat himself up over this for a while.”

Anders shook his head as he rose. “It wasn’t his fault. I’d warned you but I should have made my limits clearer. We weren’t exactly safewording.” He shrugged. “It was my own fault for pushing too hard in the first place. I don’t think Fenris realised I was that effective at fighting unarmed.”

“I certainly didn’t, and had we ever come to blows before you likely would have had the upper hand.” Invictus admitted.

“Right up until the point where he stuck his fist through my chest,” Anders agreed. “That move does tend to trump any little tricks I may have picked up in the Wardens.” He glanced around for his clothes.

“I dont’ think that will happen.” Vic said as he passed the other mage his clothes and went to the bath. “Love are you done in here?” he called but there was no answer. “Bugger, I hate when he does this.”

Anders glanced over as he tugged on his pants, then wandered over to the door. Tapping lightly, he pressed his ear against the door. “Fenris?” he called quietly. “Are you alright?”

“Fine...I’m just fine. Be out in a minute.” He called before he scrubbed at his face to dry in before he opened the door. “Bath’s all yours, I’ll be downstairs after I eat something.” 

Anders stared down at the elf, and then he cradled Fenris’ face in his hands as he bent down and kissed him, tenderly and gently, pulling away only when he needed to breathe. He stared into Fenris’ eyes. “I’ve already forgiven you, love,” he said quietly. “Please forgive yourself. I should have said something sooner. You weren’t to know what would happen if you left me like that. I should have warned you what my limits were.” He gently kissed the elf’s forehead.

“You told us you hated being alone, I knew that and I was careless. Please, just get ready so we can get this overwith.” Fenris pleaded as he tried to find a way past Anders so he could get ready in peace. 

“Fenris, stop it. He forgave you and you didn’t do it with the intent of making him so upset.” Invictus said from behind the other mage. 

Anders let his fingers trail down the sides of Fenris’ face before he dropped his hands to his sides and stepped aside, his eyes sad.

“Thank you.” the elf said before he scooted past Anders but right into Vic’s arms. 

“Go on, I’ll be there in a bit.” Invictus said as he steered Fenris to the bed and sat him down. “Fenris, why are you being like this? He said he forgave you, and you didn’t do that out of malice or hate. I saw how you were cuddled up with Anders. He wouldn’t let you be so close if he didn’t trust you. Stop this, please.” 

Fenris looked down and answered in a low rumble that the other man couldn’t make out. 

“What?” Vic repeated. 

Anders slipped into the bathing chamber and drew the door closed behind him so there could be no chance of eavesdropping. He ran a tepid bath for himself and peeled off his pants, slipping into the water with perhaps a bit more splashing than was strictly necessary.

Fenris repeated himself so Vic could hear him. “I...I’m already, he’s part of our lives now and I hurt him Vic. I hate when I do that, I want to be more than the fucking animal Danarius molded me into. That was something vicious and petty he’d have me do before. I thought I was over that kind of thing.” 

“You’re only hu--, er...an elf. You can’t just turn off years of training love and you were hurting, you didn’t think it would be that bad. Just stop beating yourself up over this stuff, remember one day at a time, one day. Please?” the champion begged of him.

Anders washed briskly, humming to himself, closing his eyes and deliberately not thinking about how small the room felt as his voice echoed back. He didn’t like how on edge and jittery he felt and hoped he’d feel more himself once they got out into the fresh air. 

“I’ll try, that’s all I can promise Vic. Now let’s get ready to go, I actually am hungry” Fenris said tiredly.

“Alright, it’s all I will ever ask of you beloved. I’ll be back in a bit.” he said before he knocked on the bathroom door. “Can I come in?”

Anders jumped, startled, with a small cry. He recovered himself quickly. “Yes, yes, come in,” he said hastily.

Vic entered and left the door cracked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you scream, I can leave until you’re done if you like.” he said from his place at the doorway.

“I didn’t scream,” said Anders defensively. “I was just... a little startled. Don’t- don’t shut the door... please?”

“Sure, want me to go?” Vic said diplomatically.

“No,” said Anders quietly.

“Alright.” Vic stripped off and after a quick rinse, slipped into the tub with the other mage. “Wash your back?” he offered.

Meanwhile Fenris had eaten about half what he usually put away then started to tug on his armor. His mood was low and he knew if he wasn’t careful he’d fall into a grand spiral that would last for days, days they did not have.

Anders relaxed a little as Invictus washed his back, the blond mage resting his arms on the edge of the tub and dropping his forehead to lean on his forearm. “I didn’t scream,” he said quietly, but it seemed he was almost talking to himself.

“As you say Anders.” Vic replied as he scrubbed the other man’s back. “Do mine would you?” 

Anders lifted his head and turned obediently, taking the cloth from Invictus as he began to scrub the other man’s back. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m just... a little on edge still,” he said after a moment. “Please don’t say anything to Fenris. He’s taking this too much to heart as it is and I don’t want to worry him further.”

“I’m not, he’s doing a bang up job of beating himself up all on his own.” Vic said with a sigh. “I love him but...when he spirals, he hits hard.”

Anders’ hand slowed then stilled, resting on Invictus’ shoulder. “I’ll try to get a handle on my nerves,” he said quietly.

“It’s alright, we all kind of fucked up this morning. Come on, let’s get going before it’s lunch time.” Vic turned and gave Anders a buss on the cheek before he stood up. Anders pulled himself up and climbed out of the tub, reaching for a towel, his mood still subdued.

“We’ll get apples on the way to Merrill’s and I hope to Maker she doesn’t pick up on our mood after yesterday.” Vic said as he dried off and pitched a towel towards the blond. “I’ll see if our prickly elf is still here.”

Anders caught the towel and dried off, tugging on his pants before wandering back into the bedroom to finish dressing. He sighed at the shabby, disreputable state of the feathered pauldrons, trying to smooth them into some semblance of tidiness. The kitten pranced into the room and launched herself at the feathers, batting at them wildly.

“Hey, you’re not helping!” He laughed at her antics and swept her up for a cuddle; she butted her head against his chin, and suddenly he was cradling her close and crying silently, mouth open, hot tears running down his cheeks. He dropped into a huddle on the floor, hunched over as the kitten purred and patted at the tears with a soft paw as his shoulders shook in silent paroxyms.

After a while the torrent of tears eased and he wiped his dripping nose with his sleeve and sniffed, rubbing his wet cheek against the small grey furry body. The kitten made a noise of complaint and wriggled free, dropping down to perch on his knee and mew imperiously at him.

“OK, OK, you want feeding too,” he sniffed, wiping at his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. “Maker, I’m a mess. Don’t you breathe a word of this to anyone, you hear me?” The kitten chirruped. He hiccuped, his breath still hitching in his chest.

As he turned to get up, Malum wandered in, his stubby tail starting to wag when he caught sight of the kitten. He began to lick Anders’ face, washing his cheeks with his big slobbery tongue as Anders laughingly protested. “Enough, enough!” he pleaded, then flung his arms around the dog’s neck and buried his face in his ruff. “If anyone asks, I guess I have a good excuse for why my eyes are red,” he chuckled. He sat back, then laughed louder as the kitten leapt up onto the dog’s back. “Oh you are kidding me, he’ll never let you-” he began, then broke off as the dog trotted from the room, the kitten perched imperiously on Malum’s back.

“Invictus has got to see you two,” Anders mused as he rose to his feet and shrugged on his coat. Reaching for his staff, he headed downstairs to find the others.

Fenris had busied himself with the dishes when the doorbell had sounded. He went to answer since he didn’t trust that someone might be stupid enough to attack them in broad daylight. His mood was not helped when he opened the door to find Merrill there with a basket, her staff slung on her back and a smile on her face. 

“Morning, I take it you rested well Fenris?” she said happily. “Can I come in?” She didn’t wait for an invite but bounced into the foyer then burst out laughing as Malum came trotting down the stairs, Lady perched on his back. “Creators, that’s too precious! Did Anders teach her to do that?”

“Do what?” he said as he turned to see what she was talking about. “I think the cat just used Malum as a walking saddle.”

“Good morning Anders!” called Merrill as the blond mage made his way down the stairs, sniffing slightly and scrubbing at his eyes. “Are you alright? You don’t look well, Anders!”

“Dog allergy,” said Anders. “Malum caught me and licked me. Got me right in the eyes.” He coughed.

Fenris arched an eyebrow but said nothing. He knew that Malum had slept in the same room as them with no ill effects to the mage. He glanced up to see Invictus headed down in his full Champion regalia.

“You little welp, you trained her to do that didn’t you?!” Invictus said when he saw the grey kitten perched on top of Malum’s back.

“Not my doing, she did that all by herself,” replied Anders, rubbing his eye as he regarded the two animals. 

“Hmm.” Vic said as he headed into the kitchen to grab some food and fill his water skin. “Ready to go hunt a demon?” he said with a bit of false cheer.

“No, but we don’t get a choice do we?” Fenris drawled from where he had leaned by the door.

Merrill had a hold of Anders’ collar and had tugged him down to her height so she could peer in his eyes. “Your eyes are very red, Anders,” she observed.

“Yes, well, you try getting Malum’s spit in your eyes, I doubt you’d be too comfortable either,” said Anders as he pulled away. “I don’t think he believed me when I said I’d already had a bath.”

Fenris said nothing, he just observed. 

Vic came back in with a full pack and grinned like his old self before they’d set off on an adventure. “Let’s go kids, demons to catch, Eluvians to smash and I’d like to be home before dinner please.” he made a motion towards the door as he gave the animals a scratch on his way past.

Anders followed, blinking a little as he stepped into the bright sunshine. Merrill skipped after him and grabbed his arm, babbling something about the marketplace; he smiled politely and let her babbling wash over him as they followed the Champion, Fenris bringing up the rear.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even Fade Spirits have limits, Fenris finds his is exceedingly short when it comes to Merrill and Hal isn't so spry.

Anders felt better for being outside in the fresh air - or at least, as fresh as it ever got in Kirkwall. It wasn’t so bad in Hightown, but as they descended into Lowtown the streets became narrower, the houses overhanging the dirt roads in the shadows of the cliffs. The sun rarely reached down far enough to warm the dirty streets, filled with the miasma of unwashed bodies, occasional livestock, the stench from the tanneries on the east side, the forges to the south and the ever-present stink of rotting fish from the harbour that pervaded everything along with the scent of desperation and poverty.

It wasn’t quite as bad as Darktown, where the effluvia of raw sewage permeated the noisome whole along with the ever-present threat of chokedamp rising up from the lower levels, but still, you could hardly term the air in Lowtown “fresh”.

Still, a faint breeze stirred up small dust eddies and tugged at Anders’ hair as he followed Hawke, Merrill still hanging from his arm and chattering at him. He wasn’t sure just why she’d decided to attach herself to him, but she at least was distracting his thoughts from dwelling too much on what had happened that morning or from growing too concerned over how the houses and buildings seemed to press in on them on all sides as they descended lower into Lowtown. The marketplace was far too crowded, hordes of unwashed people pressing against them like a living tide as they made their way past, and Anders found his breathing quickening a little, eager to be past the noise and throng.

Fenris was tense, his guard up as they moved through the city. He didn’t like that Merrill was all over Anders, his expression dark as they went. He walked in tandem with Invictus, not even realizing how deep his scowl went until the mage called him on it.

“You look like you licked Malum. What’s got you so sour?” Vic asked in a hush.

“It is nothing,” replied the elf tersely. “We should move on.”

“It’s not nothing, you have that look on your face. The one you usually get before you either go into a grand sulk for days or rip out someone’s heart.” Vic said calmly.

“I do not sulk,” replied Fenris in a tone of wounded dignity. “I’m quite sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Invictus.” His nose wrinkled in distaste as the stench of rotting fish became much stronger, their last turn taking them closer toward the harbour.

“Denial won’t change the fact you look about moments from ripping her heart out for touching Anders.” Vic said acerbically. “He’s not going to go with her and leave us, just calm down.” 

“I never considered such a possibility for a minute,” replied Fenris, glancing away uncomfortably. “You prattle as much as she does.”

“I do not prattle and you know I speak the truth love. It’s clear as day and even I can see you are turning a bit green from it. I’ll drop it but know that I can see through your refusal to admit jealousy.” Vic said a bit sternly.

Fenris made a noise of disgust and glowered at the dirt road beneath their feet as though he could blame it instead for his discomfort. “Where is this damnable place anyway?” he growled, kicking a stone out of his path.

Vic sighed and pointed to an alleyway that they were approaching. “Hopefully still down there.” He coughed and called Anders and Merrill so they wouldn’t just keep going. “This way you two.”

Anders halted then tugged Merrill toward the alleyway. Her incessant babbling was finally wearing even him down despite his distraction, and he was glad for an excuse to slip his hand free as he moved up to join Invictus. “Oh good, I was afraid it might have done a disappearing act again,” the blond apostate remarked. “The last thing we need is to go on a wild goose chase round Kirkwall for a shop.”

“Let’s just get this over with.” Fenris snapped as he followed behind Invictus.

Vic didn’t say a word, he knew better than to let the elf’s mood swing get to him as well. “Xenon?” he called as he entered.

Anders darted a worried glance at the elf but said nothing as he edged a little closer to Invictus.

“You rang Champion?” came the rattling voice from the husk that managed the Emporium. Anders jumped, biting back a yelp of surprise.

“Yes, we...we need to have a word about your Eluvian.” Invictus said as he glanced up at Xenon’s withered form.

“If you break it, you buy it Champion.” rasped the antiquarian.

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Vic muttered.

“So, how much gold _do_ you have?” murmured Anders nervously, darting a glance at the veiled mirror in the corner. The dark shadowy interior of the Black Emporium had him decidedly on edge and he was having to fight hard against the urge to flee back out into the daylight outside. “Can you just... buy it and then deal with it back at the estate?” He kept his voice low, unsure just how sharp Xenon’s hearing might be.

“I don’t walk around with _that much coin_ on me Anders.” Vic whispered back.

“You can haggle, I’m sure Champion.” Xenon laughed, the rattle unnerving to those that heard it.

“Vic, let’s get this thing done and go home. If I have to strap that thing to my back and tote it I will.” Fenris said uneasily.

Anders could feel his hands growing sweaty as his heart skipped a beat. “What... what do you want for the mirror?” he asked Xenon.

“You have something I would like for my collection. I believe you are familiar with Asha’Bellanar?” Xenon said.

“Ash- he means Flemeth? The Witch of the Wilds?” Anders said, glancing at Merrill who nodded. He turned back to the storekeeper, wondering just how it was he’d suddenly found himself the one haggling. “Yes, we’ve had dealings with her. What of her?” he asked.

“The amulet you brought back with a piece of her, I would have it for my collection. Do you have it with you or do you need to get it?” Xenon asked with as much avarice as a dried up husk could muster.

“It’s not with me but it’s a short trip home to get it. Anders, do you want to come with me? Fenris and Merrill we can meet you at the Hanged Man on the way back.” Vic said.

“I...can come with you if you like Vic.” the elf demurred.

Anders nodded firmly, his eyes already on the door. “Need some fresh air,” he murmured distractedly.

“Love, just go have a pint we won’t be long alright?” Vic said as he headed to the door. “Be back soon Xenon!” Anders had practically bolted for the door the moment they started to move.

Fenris glowered at his lover’s back as they left and muttered unkind things under his breath in Tevene all the way to the Hanged Man’s door.

Merrill traipsed after Fenris, uncharacteristically silent for once, though in his mood Fenris didn’t notice. He felt very little like socialising, and being forced to do so in Merrill’s company of all people was not going to improve his mood any.

The elf entered after waving off Invictus and Anders with a two fingered salute, then headed to a table with no care about whether Merrill followed him. He ordered a glass of wine and did his best to ignore her.

Meanwhile Invictus hurried back to the house with Anders in tow, his expression tense. “I’m worried, about leaving Fenris with Merrill. He looked angry about it.” 

“Hopefully Varric will be able to defuse his anger somewhat,” replied Anders, his longer legs keeping pace with the Champion easily. “Maker but I’m glad to get out of there again.”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t care for Merrill, and he’s already in a mood. Maybe it was a mistake to leave them alone together.” Invictus said as they walked quickly.

“I have to say that Fenris is the most un-elflike elf I’ve ever encountered, and I’ve met quite a few in my time,” Anders mused. “You’d think they’d have more in common but they’re like chalk and cheese.” 

“He’s had a harder life than her, and you know that Anders. He’s ...got a lot going on and her personality along with the blood magic makes it hard for him to tolerate Merrill.” Vic said quietly as they reached the house.

“I know,” nodded Anders. “The blood magic bothers me a lot too. Every time she resorts to it, I find myself wondering if this is going to be it - the fight in which she turns into an abomination and we have to end her, worrying whether we’ll be able to take her down and will she be the death of one of us? She just doesn’t seem to understand just how serious a danger she’s in every time she does it, and that’s what terrifies me.” He shook his head as he leaned against the wall, watching as Invictus got the door open.

“He’s seen far worse than she has in Tevinter but it’s like she doesn’t care.” Vic said as they trudged up the stairs towards his...no their room. 

Anders sighed. “She knows what happened when I lost control of Justice and Ella died. That could have been her - and Justice was a Fade spirit, not a demon. She’s fought abominations herself; she _knows_ that when it reaches that point, you’ve lost. Ultimately the only one who wins when you take in a demon is the demon; you _can’t_ control it, and the day you accept a demon’s help is the day you’ve started down a slippery slope to abominationhood. Why won’t she see that? She’s already seen what tinkering with that damned mirror could lead to!”

“I don’t know, hopefully she’ll see what this can lead to when we destroy the second Eluvian.” Vic said as he rooted around and pulled the amulet out of his dresser. “There we go, I’m glad it’s all Xenon wants for the Eluvian.”

“We’d better pray it _is_ all he wants and that he doesn’t decide to haggle further,” remarked Anders dourly. He glanced at the amulet. “I wonder why he wants it? There’s... nothing left in it, is there?”

“I don’t know, and I honestly don’t want to know to. If Flemeth pops out of it and takes him out, at least it won’t be us she comes after.” Invictus said as he pocketed it and turned to go. “Come on, we have an antiquarian to pander to.”

Anders nodded and followed the Champion back downstairs. “Do you... need me inside the Emporium?” he asked, his tone almost but not quite managing to sound diffident.

“I’d prefer you be there in case something comes out, and we need a healer. But I get the sense you don’t want to go back?” Invictus paused at the landing and turned to the blond mage at his side.

“You weren’t planning on destroying the mirror actually inside the Black Emporium were you?” asked Anders. “I don’t think Xenon would appreciate the random property damage if we have to take out another demon.” 

“You’re right and I don’t think I could afford it. Stay here, we’ll be back with it later.” Vic said with a wan smile.

Anders hovered indecisively. “If... you really want me to come, then....”

“Stay, I can see you need to stay out of dark places for now. We’ll be back soon.” Vic said then headed for the door.

“Hawke,” called Anders. When the Champion glanced back, he smiled weakly. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. See you soon.” Hawke headed off towards the Emporium, his heart heavy at what was could happen once they destroyed the mirror.

**

Arden had no idea how the mage was able to keep going. Justice just didn’t seem to tire, but the Champion was sure the exertion must be taking some sort of toll on Anders’ body.

He’d renewed the haste and rejuvenation spells twice on their way back towards Kirkwall, and finally the city gates were in view. It was approaching noon.

Fenris huffed as they went, even being in good shape, he was flagging. “How can he keep going?” he muttered angrily as they hurried.

Arden shook his head. “No idea,” he gasped. He glanced over his shoulder; even with the spells, Merrill was flagging badly behind them.

“Maker’s balls, we’re all going to be too tired to do anything by the time we get to the city.” Fenris huffed. 

As he spoke, Justice suddenly stumbled, his pace slowing. “ _THIS BODY IS WEAKENING_ ,” he intoned.

“As are we all, we need to rest.” Fenris said before he sunk to his hands and knees.

“ _WE MUST...must reach...._ ” Justice’s voice tailed off, and as Arden hastily leapt to his side the blue fire flickered and died. Arden caught Hal as Anders swayed and then collapsed face-first to the ground.

“None of us will be any good in this condition. Need to rest.” Fenris huffed as he collapsed as well.

Merrill staggered up, huffing and panting. She stared around at the others. “We need help,” she gasped, between ragged breaths. “Stay here, I’ll go find Varric.” She pulled a stamina potion out of her pack, downing it with a grimace before pushing on past Fenris.

The elf rolled to his back and stared at the sky with a hysterical little laugh. “So ...tired. Not going to make it.” he said.

Arden shook his head. “Not giving up yet,” he panted.

“Don’t want to, but can’t go on. Even I have limits Arden.” Fenris muttered then shut his eyes.

Arden groaned in frustration as he laid Hal down carefully before checking on Anders. The blond apostate was deeply unconscious, sprawled face-down on the dusty road; his body was limp as Arden managed to roll him over onto his back. “Not good,” Arden huffed quietly.

“Beyond not good.” the elf murmured before he fell asleep, or truth be told unconscious.

It seemed only a few minutes later that someone was gently shaking Fenris. “Hey, c’mon Broody, open your eyes.”

“No...not getting up.” he slapped at the dwarven archer’s hands in an effort to be left alone.

“Hey Aveline, get a couple of your guys over here, I think Broody might need to be carried too,” called Varric as he straightened up; Fenris heard the sounds of booted feet approaching him where he lay.

“Touch me and you’ll lose your hands.” Fenris snapped as he rolled to his side and opened his eyes.

“Sorry, Broody, but we need to get you all back into the city. You can walk or these two strapping lads can carry you, it’s your choice.” Varric jerked his thumb at Donnic and another guardsman Fenris didn’t recognise. “They’re carrying Blondie and Red in already. Hawke’s being as stubborn as you but at least he’s on his feet. Merrill’s waiting up at the Hanged Man; Rivaini’s taking care of her.”

“Fine, but don’t drop me.” Fenris said before he fell over into the waiting guards’ grip.

“We’ll take it easy, Fenris,” said Donnic. “Aveline’s got Hawke; giving him an earful too, I don’t doubt.”

They headed up into the city, and the journey to the Hanged Man had never seemed to take so long. The guards, Varric and Aveline got the exhausted elf, Champion and mages up to Varric’s suite, settling Arden and Fenris in chairs before the guards saluted and all but Donnic and Aveline left.

“Hawke, you’re going to have to tell me later what this is all about,” warned Aveline. “I won’t ask now, I know better than to expect sense from any of you in this state - but I’ll expect a report from you on my desk by the end of the week.”

“You’ll have it, Aveline,” nodded Arden as he lifted a hand in weary farewell.

Aveline glanced round, nodding to Varric, Merrill and Fenris before she and Donnic took their leave.

“So, going to tell me what had you all tearing back to Kirkwall in such a hurry, Hawke?” asked Varric as he settled into his seat at the head of the table.

Arden shook his head. “I’m not sure where to begin or even if you’d believe the half of it, Varric,” he replied.

Varric opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass, shoving it over towards Fenris, before pouring for himself and Arden. 

The door opened and Isabela strode in, a tray with five bowls of stew balanced on one arm and a couple of flagons of ale in her free hand. She set the flagons down on the polished wooden table then set down the tray. She set bowls of stew in front of Fenris, Merrill and Arden, then made her way over to Varric’s bed where Anders had been laid down, his feet dangling over the end of the bed. She sat down on the edge of the bed and patted Anders’ cheek, trying to wake him up.

Arden glanced over to a nearby couch, where Hal was laid out still deeply asleep. “I doubt you’ll have any luck waking either of them, Isabela,” he warned.

Fenris took it and sipped cautiously, he didn’t want to be out for the count as Arden told their tale. Nor in case Isabela decided to try and woo him again. 

Merrill looked as though she were about to fall asleep into her bowl of stew, her eyes drooping half-closed as she leaned on the table. She stirred her spoon through the stew, eating slowly as Arden tiredly recounted what was going on.

Fenris found his attention waned as the story went on, he’d lived some of it and the little bit of wine he’d consumed had already started to work on him. 

Varric sat back and steepled his fingertips together as Arden finished talking and turned his attention to the stew. After a moment, the dwarf rose and went to the door. He spoke to one of his runners and there was a clink of coin before the dwarf returned. 

“I’m having the mirror transferred from the Black Emporium to your estate, Hawke; strikes me that whatever you have to do to this thing, you don’t want to be doing it in situ as it were,” he said. “I don’t know what Xenon will require in payment but we’ll deal with that once the mirror’s been dealt with.”

“Thank you Varric.” Fenris said quietly before he let his forehead drop to his folded arms. “I’ve never felt more tired in my life.”

Arden nodded agreement, staring down at his stew. He was too exhausted to eat and right now his body craved rest more than anything else.

“Anders is dead to the world,” remarked Isabela, giving up her efforts to wake the apostate. “He’s going to be fit for nothing for hours.”

“Hal will be no better, I fear,” replied Arden. “He fell into a coma on Sundermount and he’s been out ever since.” He glanced over his shoulder at the pale red-head then got wearily to his feet and walked over to the couch to stare down at Hal. 

“Maybe once we rest it will help him.” Fenris muttered before he tried to get up and crawl onto the bed next to Anders but he sat right back down when his legs nearly gave out. “Maybe I’ll just put my head down here.” 

Merrill had pillowed her head on her folded arms on the table top and was sound asleep already, her breathing quiet and even. Isabela made her way around the table and held out a hand to Fenris.

“Can’t move...legs hurt too much.” he said tiredly.

She let her hand drop. “Would a leg rub help, sweetie?” she asked as she dropped down into a crouch beside his chair, dark eyes sympathetic.

“No...want to lie down.” Fenris said as he looked at Isabela skeptically.

“Lean on Auntie Isabela then and we’ll get you settled next to Anders,” she said.

“You’re not my aunt, and don’t call me sweetie.” Fenris snapped. He stood up and defiantly hobbled over to the bed until he could fall over next to Anders.

Isabela stood up and shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she remarked. “Hawke, do you want....” Her voice trailed off as she turned and caught sight of the blond Champion. He’d dropped down to sit on the floor next to the couch where Hal lay, and he’d fallen asleep there, head resting upon the seat of the couch, hands folded limply in his lap, legs straight out in front of him.

Isabela put her hands on her hips and regarded the four sleeping men and then the sleeping form of Merrill and sighed.

Varric held up a deck of cards. “Hand or two of Wicked Grace whilst our sleeping beauties rest up?” he suggested. She grinned and slid into a seat as she reached for one of the flagons of ale and the dwarf began to cut the cards.

“I wonder how long they’ll be out? All of them look ridden hard and put away wet.” Varric said as he dealt out the cards. 

“No idea,” replied Isabela as she inspected her hand thoughtfully. “But Anders is so deep under he’s barely even snoring.”

Varric looked over to where Fenris had sprawled face down, and smiled. “But Broody is making up for it in spades. Don’t take him too personally Rivaini, you know he’s a crabby bastard on a good day.” 

“Oh, I’m not,” replied Isabela airily. “You know me Varric; water off a duck’s back and all that. How else do you think I put up with Aveline and that stick up her arse? She could do with something else shoving up there....” She pushed a small stack of coin forward as she took another card.

“Careful, she hears you say that she might lock you up and play for keeps.” Varric countered as he eyed his hand, diamonds, snakes, crescents...a shoddy hand from his own deal. 

Isabela snorted. “Please, she’d have to catch me first. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.” She slapped down four aces and smiled. “Pay up.”

“You never know Rivaini, she might surprise you one of these days.” Varric said as he flipped her three silvers and shuffled the cards again. “Might was well get another round, looks like it’s going to be a while till anyone is upright again.”

**

Invictus entered the Hanged Man to find Fenris was scowling at Merrill even as she asked him questions. He gave his elven lover a smile as he came up and hoped he would be forgiven for leaving him with the Dalish woman. “Ready to go back to the Emporium?”

“Hello Hawke, where’s Anders? Is he waiting outside?” Merrill bounced up with an irrepressible smile, oblivious to Fenris’ dark glower. 

“No Merrill, he needed a bit of rest. We’re going to get the mirror and take it with us or have it delivered. Maybe the creepy golem can carry it.” Vic mused.

“Whatever gets us out of here and back home is fine with me.” the Tevinter elf said as he rose with a grim look at his lover. “You owe me Invictus Endrin Hawke.” he muttered crossly in Tevene.

“Oh, I do hope he’s feeling OK, he wasn’t looking at all well earlier was he?” babbled Merrill, oblivious. “I’m looking forward to seeing this Eluvian - the one in my house is the only one I’ve ever seen before, it’ll be so interesting to see a properly-working one.”

“Don’t get attached to it, we have to destroy it remember?” Invictus said. He leaned in and promised Fenris a few choice things he could do in retribution once they were done with their business.

“We’ll see if I am in the mood for such things later.” the elf said before he headed towards the door. “Let’s go.”

“Oh, I won’t, only it will be so fascinating, see?” Merrill went on as she tagged after the two men. “Such a shame we have to destroy it really.”

“It’s not a shame, it’s a necessity. Do you not see what these things can cause?” Fenris whirled on her and snarled. “Your other self cost another Hawke his life, you will not cost Invictus’ his am I clear?”

She blinked, eyes widening as she came to a halt, staring back at Fenris in shock. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- I would never -”

“You never do.” he said before he left the Hanged Man to get some daylight and air that wasn’t stale with piss and ale.

“Merrill, I’m sorry...he’s, he’s had a rough morning.” Vic said as he tried to comfort her.

“I see,” she said quietly, her voice subdued, before turning big unhappy green eyes on Invictus. “Hawke, I would never - you know I wouldn’t-”

“I know Merrill, but we’ve had too many close calls and Fenris is protective of me. You know he can be crabby at the drop of a hat. Come on, give me a smile, just a bit?” he said as he gave her a tiny one to start.

She stared at him anxiously and then gave him a small, tremulous smile.

“Thank you, once the mirror is dealt with I’m sure everyone will be in a better mood. Come on, let’s go before he gets grumpier.” Vic headed out and gave Fenris an exasperated look before he whispered in rapid fire Tevene to him. “Must you always be so harsh? She looked ready to cry in there.”

“When it comes to maleficar, yes. I will not budge on this Invictus. Let’s go.” Fenris replied before he headed towards the Emporium. 

Merrill scampered after them, carefully circling around to Hawke’s other side so the Champion was between her and the other elf.

Invictus sighed but left off for the time being, they had bigger fish to fry. He entered the Emporium, strode up to Xenon and held up the amulet. “This is what you wanted correct?”

The withered husk swivelled rheumy eyes toward the Champion. “Ahhh, yes, yes indeed,” Xenon rasped. “The very thing. The Eluvian is yours, Champion.”

“Thank you Xenon. May we ...borrow your Golem to get it to my estate?” Hawke asked as the young boy who was always there came up to retrieve the trinket from him. 

“Yesss, yesss....” Xenon agreed as the immense silent stone servant strode out from its corner to heft up the cloth-swathed mirror before stalking heavily and ponderously towards Invictus.

“If you can lead Vic, I’ll bring up the rear to keep an eye out.” Fenris said as he skipped backwards to avoid being smacked by the frame.

“Sure, I just hope we don’t terrify Anders when we get back.” Vic said as he led the golem out and towards the estate.

Merrill was fascinated by the golem and trotted alongside it, reaching out curiously to prod it from time to time, oblivious to the stares their strange group was attracting as they made their way toward Hightown. They’d gathered quite the crowd by the time they reached the estate, which did nothing for Fenris’ mood.

The elf slammed the door behind them and led the golem towards the door that led to the cellar. “Leave it down there and return to Xenon,” he instructed it. The golem shuffled down towards the cellar. A moment later there was a terrified shriek and Orana came hurtling up out of the cellar, white-faced and shaking. 

“M-m-master, a m-m-monster!” she babbled, terrified.

“It’s just a delivery golem Orana, it’s alright.” Invictus assured her as he tried to calm her down. “Fenris, can you get Orana some tea and I’ll get Anders please?”

The fighter rolled his eyes but did as he was asked by his lover. Once the fire was lit he put on the kettle and set out five cups as he waited for the water to boil. 

“Thank you love.” Vic said before he helped Orana into a chair. “Merrill, can you keep her company as well?”

“Yes, of course Hawke,” nodded Merrill as she dropped to a crouch beside the terrified servant girl and patted her hand reassuringly.

Vic nodded and headed up to get Anders. He popped into their room to see if the apostate had lain back down while he was away. When he didn’t see him there, Vic moved to the study and called out.

Anders was sitting in a chair near the window, nose deep in a book. Lady was draped over his shoulder, purring, and Malum was slouching against Anders’ leg, his big heavy head resting on the mage’s knee. Anders turned a page then reached down absently to fondle the big dog’s ears. As he heard his name called, he glanced up and looked around, the dog lifting his head to stare expectantly at the door, stubby tail starting to wag.

“Hi, we’re back if you are up to dealing with the mirror and possibly a very cranky elven warrior.” Vic tried for humor but wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded. 

“Oh dear,” said Anders, laying the book down gently as he got to his feet. He gently put Lady down on the seat then reached for his staff. “What happened?”

“I left him in Merrill’s company and he looked fit to be tied by the time I got back. It’s going to be work to calm him. The delivery golem scared Orana half to death as well. I think if a demon does come from the Eluvian, Fenris’ scowl might destroy it on sight.” Vic sighed and stretched. “Let’s get this over with, I’m tired and getting a tad crabby myself.” 

Anders made his way over to the other mage and kissed him on the cheek. “Let me see to Orana and then let’s have a look at this mirror,” he said.

“Thank you.” Vic said before he returned the other man’s affection. “Maker preserve all of us if this thing coughs up another demon.”

“It probably will,” sighed Anders ruefully. “Maker, I hope it’s not another fear demon. After this morning, I don’t think I could handle that. Maybe it’ll be a rage demon and Fenris can work off all his frustrations on it.”

“No, I do not want to see him influenced by a rage demon.” Vic shuddered as he went. 

“Yes... you may have a point,” agreed Anders as they made their way to the kitchen.

Fenris looked up when he heard them come into the kitchen. He looked and felt tired as he sipped his tea and nudged the two remaining mugs towards them. 

“Thanks love,” murmured Anders as he leaned over and kissed Fenris before picking up his mug then dropping into a chair near Orana, giving her a reassuring smile. He leaned forward in his chair to talk quietly to her, laying a hand over hers as he talked. There was the telltale tug of magic on Fenris’ brands as Anders gently channelled a little healing magic into Orana, soothing and comforting.

The Tevinter elf shifted as he felt the tug of magic but said nothing. He finished his tea then rose. “We should get this over with.” Fenris said as he looked to the cellar door with trepidation.

Anders glanced up at Fenris then back to Orana. “You’ll be alright,” he said gently. “Take the rest of the day off and go amuse yourself, OK?”

Orana glanced to Invictus.

“Go, have fun. Spend some of that coin I pay you for once.” Vic said before he nodded to the other mages and opened the cellar door. He took a deep breath, sent a mage light ahead and started down. 

Anders followed just behind, Merrill crowding in to peer around him, wildly curious about this Eluvian that she had heard the others talk about but never actually seen for herself. Anders on the other hand was apprehensive, staring down at the shadowy confines of the cellar with something akin to dread.

Fenris followed behind, his whole body tight and ready for a fight that he hoped wouldn't happen. 

The Eluvian stood in the centre of the bare space in the cellar, the floor still stained with Fenris’ blood from the fight with the despair demon. The mirror was shrouded in a large black cloth. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, they fanned out slightly, Merrill pushing forward eagerly to stand next to Invictus whilst Anders hung back, his face pale and sweating. He briefly glanced back at the stairs, then turned towards Invictus, swallowing hard as he unslung his staff.

Fenris’ scowl deepened as he saw the bloodstains. “Let us be done with this, I have no desire to revisit my near demise.”

Invictus pulled the cloth off and stepped back from it. “Almost a shame to do this but I’d rather not give another demon a pass to our world. Everyone ready?” he asked as he pulled the arulin’holm out of his pocket.

There was a flash of light from the mirror and suddenly the image of Hal appeared. The red-haired mage slammed his hands noiselessly against the glass from the other side, his eyes wide in desperate fear, blood running down his face from eyes and nose. 

“Hal, what happened?” Vic said in shock.

Fenris stepped back and growled at the sight of the bloodied mage.

“ _Don’t! Please... please, no, not yet, we’re not ready!_ ” Hal begged, his voice thin and distant. “ _We need to destroy both Eluvians at the same time but... but we aren’t ready, Anders is unconscious, Fenris and Arden exhausted. And... and I think...._ He bowed his head and then doubled over, coughing, clutching at his chest. As he slowly straightened, they could see blood dripping from his lips.

“Maker, no!” exclaimed Anders as he pushed forward, ever the healer. “What’s wrong? What’s happening to you?”

Merrill had dropped back, wide-eyed and horrified. 

“ _Flemeth,_ ” replied Hal, his voice weak. “ _We had no arulin’holm. So she... made me the tool._ ” He lifted his eyes slowly to stare at Invictus. “ _This... this is what destroying the other Eluvian in your Merrill’s house did to me. I- I think this is going to kill me._ ”

“Sweet merciful Andraste,” whispered Anders.

“Maker...can’t that Anders do anything for you?” Fenris asked as he stepped further back.

Hal shook his head. “ _He’s tried. He’s been healing me as much as he can, but... something inside just drains the magic away. Even Justice’s power couldn’t help._ ”

“Maybe... maybe both of us? That Anders, and me? Together?” suggested Anders.

“You can’t get trapped there again, especially if there’s a chance something will come back with you.” Fenris said.

Vic agreed. “You ...it’s not a wise idea. No. I am not saying that to be purely selfish, he’s not well and may not make it even if you take the risk.”

Anders took a step toward the mirror. “But he’s _dying_!” he protested, reaching toward the figure of Hal as the red-haired mage pressed bloodied hands to the other side of the glass. “What if he dies before we can destroy the Eluvians?”

“I don’t know.” Vic said. 

“ _Both mirrors must be destroyed at the same time,_ ” Hal said weakly. “ _If you destroy this one without Arden destroying the other, the Forgotten One will pass into his Kirkwall. It will escape._ ”

“Shit. Can you hold on until they are awake and at the Emporium?” Invictus asked.

Fenris stood with Merrill, his expression tense and wary as he watched them speak through the enchanted glass.

“ _I have to,_ ” replied Hal. “ _We have no choice._ ”

“I’m sorry.” Vic said as he stepped back from the glass then noticed how forlorn Anders looked. “Don’t do it Anders.” he hissed in his ear as he grabbed him around the waist and hauled him back.

“Let me go!” snapped Anders as he tried to reach for the mirror. “Don’t you see, I have to try- Hawke, damn it, let go!” He lunged forward, reaching wildly for the mirror, managing to bodily drag Invictus forward.

Fenris got in front of them and shoved both men back. “Don’t be a fool, don’t trap yourself there for someone who is dying anyway.” the elf snarled.

Behind him, Hal slumped to his knees in the Eluvian, one hand pressed to his chest.

“No, let me go!” screamed Anders, thrashing wildly in desperation. He lunged forward and suddenly Fenris found himself tumbling off balance as Anders reached out one hand.

The blond apostate felt a hand close about his ankle as he hung for a moment, Fenris clutching at him, Invictus’ arm about his waist.

And then his hand touched the glass and passed through.

They were falling.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Multiplicity is a bitch, Arden's been keeping secrets and time's a wasting for our gang of miscreants.

Anders lay still on the stone floor, out of breath. He could feel Fenris sprawled beneath him, and Invictus was a dead weight across the both of them. He could still feel someone’s hand gripping his ankle tight. He kept still, uncertain as to how both his lovers were going to react.

Fenris opened his eyes first and cursed in Tevene. “Get off me.” he growled once he realized he couldn’t move.

Anders opened his eyes and gave him an apologetic look. “I can’t,” he said breathlessly. “Invictus has me pinned. And something’s got my ankle.”

“That would be me - sorry,” said Merrill sheepishly as she let go.

Fenris shoved at the taller man and hissed as he felt a twinge in his arm. “Fuck, I’m hurt. Vic get off me.”

The champion moved away and moaned in pain. “Ouch...who landed on me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” said Merrill.

Anders rolled off Fenris then leaned over him to heal his arm. “I’m sorry too,” he said quietly. 

“I’ll give you what for later.” Fenris said as he stood up and looked around. “What in the Void?”

Anders blanched slightly at the threat in Fenris’ voice and moved to Invictus. “Where does it hurt?” he asked quietly.

“Back, might have a sprained rib or three.” the champion groaned as he stilled for Anders to heal him.

Anders laid his hands on the Champion and swiftly healed him. “There, how does it feel now?”

“I thought we went through the Eluvian?” said Merrill dubiously.

“We did,” said Anders distractedly.

“Then why are we still in the cellar?” she asked.

“We’re not, we-” Anders looked round and his voice died. 

They were still in the cellar.

“Not our cellar, there are no bloodstains on the floor.” Fenris said solemnly. “Where are we?” he said in a low whisper.

“Arden’s Kirkwall?” Vic said in a small voice.

Anders stared around the cellar slowly, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging them as he stared about himself. “But... how?” he breathed. “I don’t understand. Arden doesn’t have an Eluvian!”

“How the Void should we know?” Fenris snapped. “We’re going to be trapped here, fuck.” he said as he looked around the cellar, identical to theirs.

“This is fascinating!” said Merrill. “I wonder what the me here is like? Ooh, I wonder if my house here is the same!” She darted up the stairs.

“Wait!” called Anders, scrambling to his feet, but she’d already disappeared up into the house. “Oh Maker,” he groaned.

Fenris glared at Anders before he turned and headed up the stairs to catch the other elf. 

Anders stared after him then turned to Invictus. “Ha- Invictus... Maker, I’m sorry, I just.... H-Hal, he was _dying_ , and - and I’m a healer, I couldn’t - I can’t -” He stared at Invictus, remorse in his expression. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you all with me. I just -”

“Shut it. If you thought Fenris was in a bad mood? That’s nothing compared to what will happen if we all wind up stuck here. Kirkwall can’t take two Anders, two Fenris and two Hawkes...or Maker help us two Merrill’s. Just...let’s find Arden.” he said tiredly.

Anders stiffened, stung by the rebuke and rejection. He stared at Invictus wordlessly, then his shoulders slumped and he hung his head. He followed Invictus in silence.

Vic came up and found Fenris had stopped just short of the doorway and was staring at Orana. “Hi, remember me Orana?”

“She thinks I’m a demon of some kind, hopefully she does remember you.” Fenris said.

Orana blinked and then a hesitant smile dawned on her face. “You’re the master’s cousin,” she said to Invictus. “I remember you.” She glanced at Fenris. “Master Fenris is... not himself,” she said warily.

“He’s just tired Orana, can you let us by please? Where is my dear cousin, I’d love to see him.” Vic said with some of his old charm.

“Oh, I’m sorry messere - Master Arden went to Sundermount, as Master Fenris well knows.” She glanced at Fenris. “Did you require assistance bringing clean clothes for Masters Arden and Anders to the Hanged Man?” she asked.

“No, thank you Orana, we can handle it from here.” Vic said and nudged Fenris towards the door. “We’ll be back soon!”

“Master Fenris?” the elf whispered harshly. “Cousin?”

He was interrupted as Orana practically pounced on Anders. “Oh Master Anders! I thought you were at the Hanged Man still? Are you alright? We’ve been so worried about you!”

Anders froze for a moment then slowly followed the other two into the kitchen. “You... were?” he asked. She nodded.

“When we heard you’d carried poor Hal all the way back from Sundermount in your own arms, with no thought for yourself, only to collapse just outside the gates - Bodahn and I, we were so worried for you. It’s so good to see you on your feet again - and all this so soon after what those horrible templars did to you!” 

“Ah. Um. Yes,” said Anders uncomfortably. “I... I should get back to Arden and H-Hal.”

“Oh Master Anders, that’s so like you, worrying about others instead of yourself,” she said in a tone of fond exasperation. She caught hold of his hand and drew him into the kitchen, thrusting a couple of fresh hot spiced buns into his hands. “You eat those straight down, and I’ll have breakfast ready when you get back - and then you should rest, and I’ll not hear a word of argument from you, understood!” She flapped her apron at him and then waggled a finger sternly at Fenris. “You be sure to take good care of him, Master Fenris, and see he rests properly for once!”

Fenris blinked, unused to an Orana who would boss him around - even if affectionately, as it seemed this one was used to. “I will,” was all he could reply, before taking Anders firmly by the elbow. “Come along Anders, you heard Mistress Orana.” There was a bite to his tone as he marched Anders out of the kitchen, still clutching his spiced rolls, the grip of his taloned gauntlet tight enough to be painful as the tips of the claws bit through Anders’ sleeve.

Invictus followed, with Merrill bringing up the rear, darting Orana a curious yet apologetic look as they made their way to the foyer and out into the street.

Anders allowed himself to be manhandled by Fenris wordlessly. He hadn’t meant for them all to be dragged through like that; he’d acted on impulse - yet again - and now both Fenris and Invictus were quite rightfully angry with him. 

But if the red-haired mage died, then there would be no way to destroy the Eluvian in this Kirkwall and sever the connection between the two worlds through the fade permanently; the Forgotten One would enter the world, claim a mortal vessel, and one Thedas would perish without the Elvhen Creators to redress the balance - and the humans’ maker seemed an indifferent, uncaring god. They would be on their own. 

If by his own talents as a healer he could help restore enough health to Hal to enable him to fulfill his role as Flemeth had intended, then he was happy to take the chance he’d be trapped here forever. What was his life and happiness compared to that of millions that would die if the Forgotten One passed into this world? Sundered from Justice, his life had seemed to lack meaning any longer, bereft of direction; but now he was needed. He was a spirit healer; he had been born to heal. What was the plight of mages compared to the fate of an entire world?

But Invictus and Fenris would not have seen it that way. And now through folly - his and theirs - they were here with him, on the wrong side of the Eluvian, and they had every right to be furious with him. So he allowed himself to be dragged through the streets, stumbling, feeling blood trickle down his arm as Fenris’ talons broke the skin of his arm through his coat sleeve; and he kept silent and prayed that they would reach Hal in time.

What they chose to do with him after that didn’t matter. Only that Hal must not die.

Fenris eased his grip only when they approached the Hanged Man. He snagged one of the spiced buns to tear into so he wouldn’t verbally assault the blond mage. The elf got a hold of himself when he saw the bloodied tears at Anders elbow. He was angry but he hadn’t meant for that to happen.

“Apologies, I did not mean to injure you Anders.” Fenris said quietly as they approached the tavern.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Anders colourlessly, stumbling on, his eyes on the ground. He could feel blood running down inside his sleeve to drip from his fingers but couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“It does, I should not have been so rough with you. Please love.” Fenris said as he stopped in front of the mage.

Invictus sighed and stopped behind Anders. “You have a good heart, it’s too big some days but its in the right place. We’ll figure it out, but for now let’s see what you can do for Hal. We’re here now and we’ve got things to do.”

Anders lifted his head slowly. “You were both hurt when I dragged you through with me,” he said quietly. He lifted his hand slightly and stared at the blood on his fingers. “This... it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Heal yourself and we can go in, let’s just hope no one tries to kill us or think we’re demons or something.” Vic huffed. 

Fenris turned away, his guilt eating at him for hurting the mage in anger. 

Anders shook his head. “Not out here in the street, unless you want templars breathing down our necks on top of everything else. I can’t heal anyone if I’m stuck in the Gallows, and you’re not the Champion here.” His voice was weary, his eyes dull. He turned away and pushed open the door of the Hanged Man.

Corff shot them a strange look as they crossed the common room towards the stairs leading up to Varric’s suite, but no-one else noticed them pass. Anders headed up the stairs and on into Varric’s room, the others a few steps behind.

Varric was bent over Hal, who lay curled on his side on a couch, vomiting bright red blood into a bowl. The dwarf looked up distracted as Anders dropped to his knees beside the couch, reaching out to the red-haired mage, hands already glowing blue. 

“Blondie! Thank the Maker you woke up, I was -” Varric broke off as he stared at Anders then spotted Fenris. He whirled and stared over at his bed, where another Fenris lay sprawled asleep draped over the form of a very unconscious Anders dressed in black. He stared back at Fenris then down at the blond apostate who crouched over Hal, pouring healing energy into the dying man. Then finally Varric turned to Invictus.

“Cousin Vic,” he nodded slowly. “So I take it this is the mirror Blondie and Broody then?” 

“Aye. Shit this is worse than I thought.” Vic said as he took a seat and looked at Varric. 

Anders ignored them all as he focused all his attention on Hal. He distractedly shrugged one arm out of his coat, placing that hand back on Hal’s chest before throwing the coat off his other arm to reveal his white shirt soaked through with blood around the elbow.

“Maker, Blondie, what savaged your arm?” exclaimed Varric as Anders laid his bloodied hand on Hal’s forehead.

“Fenris,” muttered Anders distractedly. “Hush. Anyone got any lyrium? Going to need it.”

“That would be my fault.” Fenris said as he looked over his double. The other elf was sound asleep and didn’t seem to realize someone was standing over him. He fished two potions out of his belt pouch and called for his lover to catch.

Anders glanced away from Hal briefly to hold his hands up. He knocked back both vials one after the other, dropping the empties to the floor as he turned back to the task at hand.

The elf that came through from the other Kirkwall reached out to touch his other self and stopped short of caressing the other elf’s white hair. “He’s...me.” he whispered.

The unconscious blond apostate beneath the sleeping Fenris stirred, his head shifting slightly on the pillow as his eyelids fluttered slightly. He sighed softly and then his eyes slowly drifted open, the amber gaze gradually focusing on the elf standing over him. “Love?” he murmured, lips curving in a lazy smile. “How long have I-” He paused as he became aware of the press of another body against his. He glanced down, and his face went blank in shock, staring at the sleeping Fenris then up at the elf standing over him.

“Andraste’s flaming arsebadgers,” he swore softly.

The elf hovering over Anders and Fenris dropped his hand to his side and backed up until he bumped into Invictus. He looked at his Hawke, then Arden, the two Anders and the other version of himself then started laughing in a wild, high pitch that unnerved Vic.

The darker Hawke wrapped an arm around Fenris and tried to soothe him. “Love, you’re scaring me. Please stop that, it’s kind of unsettling.” he pleaded.

The elf in his arms shook his head as he continued to laugh and point at the other elf, then himself then at the two Anders until his giggles tapered off just to start again. “He’s me...he’s… me, I’m him. This is all real, it’s real, I’ve either gone entirely crazy or it’s real.” he muttered again and again as Vic tried to get through to him.

The black-clad Anders stared at him, face white, his face blank, seemingly frozen. His arm tightened around the sleeping elf in his arms. “Fenris. Please wake up,” he rasped hoarsely.

“What?” the other elf snarled as he sat up and froze at the sound of his own voice pitched far too high and worse it wasn’t coming from him. “What in the Nine Hells is going on here?” he said as he stood up and let his brands light like a beacon. “What are you?” he hissed at the other version of him that was currently giggling and laughing in Vic’s hold. “Cousin Vic, what brings you here?”

“Arden. Where’s Arden?” breathed Anders, as he stared between the two Fenrises. “Someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Invictus let Fenris settle in his grip as he spoke. “Looks like he’s asleep over there, on that other couch.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the other couch in the other leg of the L-shaped room, where the blond Hawke lay sprawled asleep. 

Anders glanced over towards the couch, and he sat up suddenly as he spotted the other Anders, head bowed as he poured every last scrap of mana into Hal. He studied the glow of magic around the blond apostate’s hands and then abruptly lurched upright, staggering over to the couch before he fell heavily to his knees, wrapping around the other Anders and dragging him bodily away from the unconscious red-haired mage.

“No,” he rasped raggedly. “Enough.”

“Let me go,” gasped the other Anders. “I haven’t-”

“Spirit healer. You’re out of mana. Don’t give your life - I know-”

The two Anders stared at each other; one in faded, tatty blue and brown, the other in funeral black.

“But -” stammered the blue-clad Anders.

“I know,” rasped the black-clad Anders. They stared into each other’s eyes, and then the black-clad Anders hugged the other to him tightly. “I know,” he repeated softly.

The Fenris that belonged in that Kirkwall came up to his double and stared at the other elf with a mix of pity and curiosity. “He’s falling apart, this is too much for him, what has happened to you in your world?” he said before he looked up to Invictus. “The fact you’re here means something is very wrong.”

“My fault, it’s all my fault,” moaned the blue-clad Anders before collapsing in tears in the other Anders’ arms. The black-clad Anders glanced up at Invictus. “I think... we need Arden awake,” he said slowly. 

“Yes, and we need to calm my Fenris before he cracks up entirely.” Vic said as he hefted the elf into his arms and put him on the bed vacated by the other men. “Sleep love, I’ll wake you in a bit.” he murmured before he touched his fingers to the elf’s forehead and sent him under. 

The black-clad Anders rose to his feet, drawing his weeping twin up after him. “I am still exhausted,” he said wearily. “We only just got back to Kirkwall a little after midday.” Drawing the other Anders with him, he made his way to the table and sank down into a chair, drawing the other Anders down with him. Glancing at the bloodstained sleeve, he channeled a little healing magic into the other mage. “Varric, go get Isabela,” he said quietly.

The dwarf nodded and left the room, deferring to Anders’ authority for once. Anders glanced over at Arden and Hal, then back at Invictus.

“Sit down. I’m assuming you came through the remaining Eluvian down in Arden’s basement?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.” Vic said. “We need Hal’s help but when Anders saw how hurt he was...he leapt through and we came with.” 

“That’s how your Anders came to be here last time, his rash impulse.” Fenris glowered.

“Easy, love,” said Anders gently. “I doubt I would have done much different in his place. Hal is dying, and all I can do is prolong the inevitable. Maybe with two of me....” He glanced at the other Anders.

“I had to try,” replied his mirror twin.

“I know,” agreed Anders. “And maybe between the two of us we can give him enough time to see this through.”

“Then we go back home and smash this thing from the other side, assuming nothing slipped out when we fell in.” Invictus said tiredly.

The other Fenris poured them all a few fingers of whiskey then downed his. “Let us hope this works.” 

“You... you came...” whispered a voice from the couch. As four heads whipped round simultaneously, Hal lifted his head weakly to stare at Invictus.

“We did, but you should not try to get up.” Vic said gently before he moved over to Hal’s side. “Nice to finally meet you, Hal.”

“I wish it were under different circumstances,” said Hal quietly as his head dropped back onto the bloodstained pillow. His youthful eyes were sad as he stared up at the dark-skinned Hawke. “I wish... we had longer.”

“I’m sure you’ll be ok.” Vic knew it to be a lie but he didn’t think he could fall apart with Hal falling closer to death in front of him. “We’ll fix it ok?” 

Fenris had come over and knelt next to Hal, his hand trembled slightly as he brushed sweat darkened hair out of the mage’s face. “Hold on, please.”

“I’m trying,” Hal breathed quietly. “Fenris... I....” He closed his eyes briefly, a single tear squeezing out from beneath long eyelashes. “I’m not ready to die,” he whispered.

“I’m not ready to let you go either.” the elf said, his voice distressed. “I’m so sorry Hal.” 

Hal opened his eyes. “I’m scared,” he confessed quietly.

“I know, I know.” Fenris said softly before he looked to Invictus. “I hope you being here means we’ll all come out of this in one piece.” 

Isabela followed Varric back into the room, and she glanced around, taking in the two Anders sitting together, one Fenris standing near Hal, another laid unconscious on Varric’s bed. She raised an eyebrow at the conscious elf. “Which Fenris are you?” she asked.

“The one that belongs here.” He said tiredly. “Seems all this back and forth was the final straw for my counterpart.”

“Poor lamb,” she said sympathetically. She glanced at the tearful Anders and then at the black-clad Anders. “I guess your mirror-selves are both having a hard time?” 

Anders tightened his arm around the exhausted, tearful apostate. “He’s just been trying to heal Hal,” he answered. 

“Any luck?” she asked.

“It’s....” Anders sighed. “We’re just staving off the inevitable, it feels. Maybe with both of us we might be able to keep him going, but when Arden smashes the mirror....” He glanced up at Fenris. “Love, we’ll do all we can but I don’t know what Flemeth did to him and... I don’t think we can undo it. I just....” He sighed, looking defeated. 

“I’d better wake Arden,” said Isabela as she strode over to the blond Hawke. 

Fenris looked over to his other self and sighed. “You should wake him, and hope he remains lucid this time. I’ll be with Arden and our Anders so he doesn’t panic upon seeing his own face.” the elf gave one last glance to Hal then joined his Anders.

“I don’t understand,” Anders said quietly as he glanced at his counterpart who had quietened down a little. “You didn’t panic when you first met me.”

“I already knew you existed, from Arden,” said the other Anders, glancing up. “And Arden looks so much like me - well, us - that seeing someone else with my face wasn’t quite so unnerving. But there is no-one else like Fenris.” He glanced over at the sleeping Fenris. “I should sit with him, maybe he’ll panic less if he doesn’t see us sitting here like a pair of twins.”

“I’m waking him up now, someone sit with him if you like.” Vic said as he gently lifted the sleep spell from his lover. His Anders rose and made his way to the side of the bed, dropping down to a crouch next to the bed so his face would be the first thing Fenris would see on opening his eyes.

“Love?” he asked quietly as Fenris’ eyes started to flutter open.

Arden was coming around groggily in the other part of the room as Isabela stepped back. He glanced around blearily. “What- what’s going on?” he said slowly as he pulled himself upright, waving Isabela’s hand off.

“Company, Hawke,” said Varric as Arden wandered over toward the table. The blond Hawke paused as he spotted Invictus with his Fenris and Anders, then blinked.

“What in the name of Andraste’s -” His voice trailed off, his tone one of disbelief, and then he shook his head. “No, no this is all wrong, you’re not supposed to be here!”

“Tell me about it.” Vic said as he helped his Fenris sit up. “Feeling better love?” he asked gently.  
“Had a terrible nightmare, thought I met another me.” the warrior grumbled as he sat up and saw the other Fenris. “Fuck.”

His Anders reached for him, stroking the side of his face lightly. “It’s OK love, it’s going to be OK - we’re in the wrong Kirkwall but at least this time it’s not just one of us trapped in the wrong place. Invictus and I are both here. And I’m so sorry I did this to us, but it’s going to be OK, we’ll be going back home real soon, I promise, just... just please don’t freak out again love, please.”

There was another Anders watching him with a sympathetic expression.

“No guarantees.” he said before he stood up and went to the other Fenris. “I...me, we...how?” he said even as he reached for the other elf to be sure he was real.

Anders got up and drifted over to stand by his black-clad counterpart, who rose to his feet and put a reassuring arm around his shoulder.

Arden shook his head. “Fuck. I need a drink.” He reached over to the whiskey bottle and splashed a large measure into a glass before knocking it back.

The Fenris that belonged there raised his own hand and pressed it against the other elf’s chest gently. “Perfect copy...like looking in a mirror.” he murmured.

The two Anders exchanged a glance, then the one in shirtsleeves reached up to the ear of the one dressed in black and flicked the gold earring with a small smile. “Almost,” he murmured.

“So what now?” both Fenris’ said in unison then gave each other tentative smiles. 

“Fucked if I know,” muttered Arden, pouring another shot of whiskey then scowling as Isabela took the bottle away. 

“How about you don’t get drunk, you know where it got us last time.” Fenris said before he left his double and joined Arden.

“And how about you give me a break love?” replied Arden tersely. “This whole situation is so far fucked up I don’t know which way to even turn right now. These guys shouldn’t even be here, I’m not sure Hal will even survive being moved, and - fuck.” He knocked back the whiskey then sighed.

Invictus came over and took the bottle to pass to his Fenris. “You are not the same mage I met before. I’d say you’re acting more like me, and that’s not a compliment trust me.” 

Arden turned and glared at him. “That’s all I need - another me getting on my case. I just need Hal to chime in and it’ll be just perfect. Anyone else want to tell me how I’m fucking up whilst you’re at it?”

Hal merely stared at him, and Arden looked away, his cheeks colouring in shame.

“I will if you want another person on your case Arden Victor Hawke.” Fenris snapped at him before he came over and nearly hauled Arden out of his chair. “Cut this bullshit out, we are not doing this again. I told you, talk to me like that again and you will see the back of me for good. Am I clear to you, Champion?” Fenris growled as he held Arden and was nose to nose with him.

Arden’s face fell into an expression of dismay. “I....” His hands rose to clutch at Fenris’ arms as his voice dropped. “Maker, I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Love, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. I don’t even know myself anymore.” He lowered his head until his forehead was pressed to Fenris’. “I’m losing myself,” he said, almost inaudible. “Don’t let me lose you too.”

“Talk to anyone else here like that and I make no guarantees. Pull yourself together. The other me fell apart, I’m getting there,Hal is dying and we’ve got to destroy both Eluvians at the same time and get them home. You want to fall apart? Do it afterward, not now because it is so not the time Arden.” Fenris said as he let Arden down then snatched the bottle from his double. 

“I earned it.” he hissed at the expression of protest his other self wore.

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, how about we get some rest then go to the Emporium tomorrow. I still have the arulin’holm from our world. Hopefully it can activate the Eluvian here and send us back.” Invictus said tiredly.

Varric shook his head. “Don’t need to go to the Emporium Vic, I had that mirror shipped to Hawke’s estate. It’s in the cellar there. Merrill’s mirror was smashed when your Anders came through on Arden’s coat-tails. There’s only the one mirror in Kirkwall now, so if you took care of your Merrill’s mirror then there’s just the one in your Emporium to smash.”

“We had it moved to my basement as well. Good, not far to go but I think we all could do with some rest and Hal needs a litter.” Vic said before he held his hand out for the bottle.

Varric leaned over and claimed the whiskey bottle. “I think letting anyone else drink this would be a bad idea,” he said reprovingly. “I’ll have food sent up; you all need to eat.”

“Oh for fucks sake…” Vic snarled.

Arden glanced at his dark counterpart and grinned ruefully. “So that’s where I get it from,” he teased lightly.

“Yes, sadly. At least you’ve rubbed off on me in a good way.” Vic said as he glanced at the Fenris and Anders of his world fondly. They were chatting with their counterparts, his Fenris seemed utterly fascinated by another version of himself and kept almost touching the other elf, then would stop as if he realized he wouldn’t like it if someone kept trying to do the same to him. “Fenris isn’t taking this well.”

Arden nodded. “You and I have done this before, and Anders has met his counterpart before as well. This is new to Fenris though and....” Arden tailed off and frowned slightly as he glanced at Invictus. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said carefully. “But it struck me that for some reason your Fenris seems more... I don’t know, ‘fragile’ is the wrong word. Brittle, maybe? Not perhaps as resilient to stresses like this as mine is. I’m not sure why that should be, but... it’s something I noticed whilst in your Kirkwall.”

“It’s because of you more than likely. You’re ...nicer and better adjusted than I am. Neither of us has been particularly good with emotions and this is weird, no this is the most bizarre thing I’ve experienced in my life. Not sure what will happen but my love, he’s...I don’t know how to explain it. But don’t let him hear you say that, he’ll be displeased.” 

Arden snorted. “That’s all I need - two Fenrises pissed at me. You may have noticed I’m not immune to fucking up myself. My Fenris, he and I are... it’s shaky still. I behaved very badly recently.” His voice dropped low so only Invictus would hear. “He fucked Hal. Behind our backs - mine and Anders; it hurt Anders terribly, and I was so furious he’d do something like that to Anders - particularly so soon after rescuing him from that damned templar ship. I was hurt for myself but more for Anders, and I... said things we both regret. We’re still edging round each other like a pair of nervous alley cats right now, and I suspect it’s only Anders that keeps us together.”

“I see...what could you have said? I just don’t think of you being capable of that kind of anger. It’s stupid, you’re human, I know. But you were so kind to me, even when I wasn’t nice to any of you, it’s a shock is all.” Vic whispered back. 

Arden lowered his head as he turned his back to the others, staring at Invictus’ feet. “I was... careless,” he admitted, shamefaced. “I fell under the influence of a demon, and... I think I got so used to behaving that way that even when Anders, Fenris and Hal finally managed to draw it out and destroy it that now I’m finding it very hard to stop. Sometimes I wonder... if maybe there’s still something left inside me. Or maybe I always was this asshole inside and now I just can’t hold it in.” His voice sounded dejected and lost.

“I don’t think you’re an asshole like that. Besides, there’s one of me in the world, it does not need two jack ass Hawke’s roaming around. It’ll be ok, I mean your influence is why Fenris and I took up with our Anders when he came back.” the other mage smiled as he looked at both his elf and mage partners, a content look on his face. 

“I noticed things seemed very different between the three of you,” smiled Arden as he turned and glanced over at the two Anders who seemed to be quietly but animatedly discussing something, both gesturing with their hands unconsciously as they talked, hand movements identical. “I’m glad; your Anders seemed a very lonely man. How has he adjusted to no longer being an- not having Justice around anymore?”

“I think he’s adjusting, slowly. Healing takes more out of him. We fought a fear demon with Merrill’s help and Fenris, he...he...nearly died but Anders saved him.” a look of pain crossed the darker mage’s face as he looked away. “It would kill me to lose either of them. Fenris is a lot more...accepting of his near demise than I am.” Invictus smiled as he saw the two elves in a discussion, both mirrored each other’s expressions and he didn’t think they realized it. “I wonder how Merrill is getting on with...Merrill?” he mused.

“Merrily shagging,” breezed Isabela as she suddenly leaned over the two mages, her arms around their shoulders. “You should see it. Or maybe not,” she amended as Arden glared at her. She grinned. “Don’t mind me boys!”

Vic’s mouth hung open at her proclamation, also at seeing Isabela again. Which reminded him of the sword hanging over his head back home, if he got home. A certain Crow had him by the short hairs when it came to a debt owed to the Rivaini woman. “Shagging...herself?” he finally mumbled.

“Oh come on, you can’t say the idea didn’t occur to you when you first got Arden here alone?” grinned Isabela. “I shan’t believe you if you say no.”

Arden made an odd strangled sound and flushed bright red. Isabela’s eyes widened in delight.

“I knew it!” she crowed. “You _did_ shag him!”

Invictus turned an interesting shade of red and put his face in his hands. “Try being a little louder, I don’t think the Grand Cleric heard you.” he muttered.

Arden’s Fenris turned and glared at his lover when he heard Isabela. “You did what?” he hissed dangerously. “You mean you slept with him then gave me nine kinds of hell for one time with Hal?” the elf’s voice was devoid of emotion, flat and that was a bad sign. 

Arden stared at him, his face draining of colour until he was white, lips bloodless. “It... gets worse,” he breathed, his voice almost completely devoid of tone.

“What?” exclaimed the black-clad Anders as he rose to his feet, the other Anders glancing between him, Arden and the angry elf nervously. “You... you slept... with Invictus? After how you went off at Fenris - how does it get any worse than that?”

Arden wordlessly glanced at the other Fenris, unable to meet the eyes of his own erstwhile elven lover. “I....”

The furious elf followed his stare and gaped at his mirror counterpart who swallowed hard.

“Me too.” the other elf admitted as he shrank back from his other self and stood with Vic.

“You too...both of you?” Fenris said with a hitch in his voice before he started to pace manically. “I...I do one thing, I admit to it, get accused of being...of something I can’t and won’t sink to. But you Arden Victor Hawke, you fucking slept with both of them and never said a word? But I’m so fucking terrible?” Fenris finished as he yanked Arden from his seat and pushed him against the closest wall. “How fucking dare you act so aggrieved? How dare you Hawke?” he said brokenly.

Arden could only stare at him mutely in terror; terrified of what Fenris could do to him but much, much worse - that he would leave him. 

“How could you?” breathed their Anders as he stared at Arden. 

“S-s-so sorry,” Arden managed to gasp through pale lips.

“Sorry? Sorry? All you can say is sorry?” Fenris screeched in anger. “After what you accused me of?” the elf’s eyes watered but he would not give Arden the satisfaction of his tears. He let the mage go and turned to face his counterpart and the other champion.

“How could you? Would you like it if I fucked him if the tables were turned? How could you do that? Are you that much of a narcissist you had to see what sex with yourself was like?” the elf was on a tirade as he advanced on them.

Invictus’ Fenris stood in front of his mage and glowered at his double. “Enough! Don’t you dare take another step unless you mean to fight us. I can guarantee I will not go down easily. Falling on your sword and beating him up verbally won’t undo the past. In case you haven’t noticed we have much, much bigger problems here, Fenris.” 

Arden slumped slowly down the wall, his face still white, an expression of numb shock and horror on his face as he stared into space. “So sorry,” he whispered.

His Anders pushed forward to stand by their Fenris, but the other Anders moved faster, interposing himself between the two furious elves. He pushed them back at arm’s length between them, staring from one to the other.

“Stop,” he said, his voice shaking. “This solves nothing, and Hal is dying whilst you fight. Would you see this world destroyed whilst you kill each other for the sake of something already done? Must Hal die for nothing?”

Invictus let out a shaky breath as his Fenris stepped back and relaxed. “As much fun as this is, I’m sure Varric would like his rooms back and we need to figure out what to do in regard to getting this done once and for all.” 

The elf at Invictus side clamped down on the urge to speak since he knew his words would make it worse. Instead he nodded and turned to get his sword, which led to confusion since they both had identical scabbards and weapons. “Shit which one is mine?”

The Fenris that belonged there glared at the other blond mage but let himself be moved back. “This isn’t over, not by a long shot.” he snarled in Tevene before he went and snatched up his scabbard and tromped around the room to look for something that could be used for a litter to get Hal back home. He muttered angrily as he moved, and didn’t look at anyone else as he worked.

The black-clad Anders stared at his counterpart, who was drawing a trembling hand over his brow, then crossed swiftly to drop to his knees next to Arden. “Love?”

Arden stared sightlessly ahead, still pale. 

“Love, please, come on. Come back.” Anders gently patted him on the cheek. “Come on, don’t do this. We need you, love.”

The Fenris that came with Invictus sighed as he pulled on his own scabbard and went to his counterpart. “Let me help you, it’ll go faster with both of us.” 

His double merely grunted at him and tossed two planks over to the other elf. “Get a couple of sheets from Varric, we’ll tie them to the planks.”

Anders was now shaking Arden, who appeared to have gone into shock. He glanced back to his counterpart, who swiftly moved to his side.

Invictus went over to Arden and both Anders, a bit amused at how similar all three men looked until he made himself focus. “Arden, come on, come back. We need you, this really isn’t the time to go wool gathering.” 

Both Fenris’ worked in tandem to get a makeshift litter done up and ready to lift Hal to it so they could go. The Fenris that didn’t belong called to Isabela. “When Merrill is, ah, free bring her to Arden’s please?”

Isabela nodded, glancing at Varric then jerking her head at Arden who still stared ahead sightlessly.

“Come on love,” said the dark-clad Anders as he touched a healing hand to Arden’s temple gently, the other Anders taking Arden’s hands in his own, also channeling healing into the blond Champion. Arden was shaking his head slightly.

“Wasn’t meant to happen... none of this,” he breathed softly. “It’s all wrong. It’s all going wrong.”

“We’ll make it right, somehow.” Invictus said as he stood up and moved so both Anders could work. He turned to see both Fenris’ had worked to get Hal to the litter and were about ready to go.

“Do you need me to carry Arden?” he asked quietly.

“No,” said the black-clad Anders as he got to his feet then, with his counterpart’s assistance, got Arden onto his. “I think he’ll be able to walk; he’s just in shock at the moment. It might be slow going though.”

Isabela returned with two Merrills, both of whom were flushed and giggling, tugging their clothes straight. Varric merely raised an eyebrow at them.

“I’m not even going to ask.” Vic said. “Let’s go, it’s going to be bad enough wandering home with two Fenris’, two Anders and now two Merrill’s. Let us hope Aveline won’t arrest half of us on sight.” he beseeched the air. 

“Let’s go, he’s not light.” both Fenris’ said as they picked up the litter and waited for someone to start moving or they would.

Isabela slung her arms around the shoulders of the two Merrills. “Come on kittens, let’s make a move,” she suggested, steering them toward the door. Varric handed the tatty feathered coat to the other Anders who shrugged it on then helped the black-clad Anders steer Arden after Isabela and the two Dalish mages. Varric gestured for the two Fenrises to go ahead as he hefted Bianca and brought up the rear.

Invictus found himself in the lead somehow and he tried to just walk home, like nothing was wrong despite the parade of misfits behind him. He sent a silent prayer to whatever might be out there that they could get to the Hawke estate with no incidents.

“What on earth is going on here?” said a familiar voice as a patrol of guards stopped just inside the gate leading into Hightown. Aveline pushed forward and put her hands on her hips, frowning as she stared at the group. Her eyes widened slightly. “Are my eyes deceiving me or are you being propped up by _two_ Merrills, Isabela?” she exclaimed. “And... two Fenrises? And - Maker, _two_ Anders? What is going on here?”

“Aveline, ah...well it’s not really easy to explain. Our friend on the litter really needs help and you can see Arden’s not well. Can we just be on our way?” The other champion asked with his best angelic expression.

Aveline stared at Invictus, her eyes narrowing. “And just who might you be?”

“Invictus Amell, cousin from the Rivain side of Arden’s family. I didn’t get the pleasure of meeting you when I was last here. So, yes we need to get Arden home and tend to the lovely redhead as well. So can we, just...go?” he grinned at her with that charming smile that worked on his Aveline, and hoped she would be as friendly towards him. 

The frown didn’t leave her face as she glanced at Arden. “What’s wrong with Hawke? He looks like he’s seen a ghost.”

“Something like that,” said the black-clad Anders. “It’s all very complicated, but we really need to get back to the estate as quickly as possible. Could we prevail on you and your guards to give us an escort so we can get there without further interruptions? The gentleman on the litter is gravely ill and we need to give him healing as soon as possible; his life is in danger.”

Aveline stared down at Hal, who was unconscious once more, his face bloodless which made the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and from one nostril appear all the more shocking and dark in contrast.

“Men! Form up - escort!” Aveline ordered, coming swiftly to a decision. She took her place beside Invictus. “Medical emergencies take priority but I’ll expect a full report from Hawke later, you understand?”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am.” Vic said as they marched on towards the Estate and Vic found himself about to open the door just like he lived there and caught himself. “Anders, can you let us in? I’ll help Arden.” 

Anders nodded, coming forward as Invictus took his place supporting Arden who was stumbling as though blind. The mage opened the door and gestured for everyone to enter, standing to one side for a last quiet word with Aveline.

“Hope Hawke is back to his usual self soon,” said the guard captain. “And that your friend makes it. Looks like you have your work cut out for you there, Anders.” She frowned as she glanced at the other Anders. “Both of you.” She shook her head in perplexion then lifted a hand in farewell and gestured for her patrol to form up and march on.

Anders waved back then closed the door behind himself and Varric, drawing a deep breath as he pressed his back to the door and stared at the small crowd in the foyer.

Both Fenris’ looked to the black clad Anders for a moment before the one that belonged there spoke.. “We should put him down in a first floor room. Easier to get him to the mirror when we’re ready to begin.” 

Anders suddenly realised they were all looking to him for direction, his counterpart among them. He drew a deep breath. “His old room in the servants’ quarters,” he decided. “It’s not far from the kitchen and the stairs down to the cellar.” He nodded to Fenris. “You know the way.” He gestured to a chair near the fire. “Invictus, Anders, settle Arden over there then Anders, come with me - we need to get Hal stabilised and it’ll need both of us.”

“Sure.” Vic said as they maneuvered Arden to a chair and sat with him. “I’ll keep him company, hopefully both Fenris’ will not mind.” 

“What about us, sweet thing?” asked Isabela, arms now slung round the waists of the two Merrills.

“Go check on the Eluvian, keep watch in case anything tries to get through,” Anders replied as he moved toward the two Fenrises and the unconscious Hal. “Varric, help Invictus with Arden please; see if you can bring him out of his fugue state.” He nodded to the two lyrium-branded elves as his counterpart joined him. “Let’s get a move on. Every moment is precious now.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two Fenrises have a heart-to-heart, the two Anders work together to save Hal, and Something is on the loose....

The Fenris that belonged there watched as the other Fenris tried to help Arden come around. He was so furious he didn’t know what he could say that wouldn’t end in bloodshed or a permanent sundering of their bond. He needed to get out, to do something but he didn’t want to hear his Anders mouth about it later.

The two blond apostates had shut themselves in the small servant’s room with Hal, focusing all their attention on the dying red-headed man, trying to stem the internal bleeding and slow whatever it was that was steadily killing him by degrees. The two Fenrises had returned to the foyer where Invictus and Varric had been trying unsuccessfully to rouse Arden from his stupor. Isabela had disappeared down to the cellar with the two Merrills; the foyer was silent save for the low voice of Invictus’ Fenris talking quietly to Arden, trying to draw the blond Champion out whilst Arden’s Fenris glowered in rage.

Arden stared ahead sightlessly, withdrawn into himself, unresponsive. 

Arden’s Fenris finally threw up his hands and snapped. “Dammit Arden, stop this bullshit. We don’t have time for it and neither you or Anders would let me fall into despair when we didn’t have time for it and I will not do it either.” 

“Yelling at him isn’t going to make him suddenly snap to, Fenris,” the other elf said quietly.

“Shut up, you don’t get to fucking talk to me about him. I don’t care if you and your Hawke fucked him senseless, he’s not yours to worry over and this isn’t your home,” the elf growled as he lit up and turned on the others.

“Easy, Fenris!” said Varric, lifting his hands peaceably as he stepped forward. “What do you think you’re going to do? We’re not enemies here, no matter what Hawke may have done with Vic and your counterpart Broody here. What good do you think it’s going to do, attacking anyone or losing your rag? Do you think you can scare Arden into waking up?”

“I’ve got a name, use it,” both Fenrises said in tandem, then looked at each other in surprise. 

“Well I guess some things never change no matter where you are,” said the alien Fenris.

“You have more in common than to keep you apart,” said Varric. “Why can’t you take a leaf from the two Anders? They’re working together to try and fix things. We _all_ need to pull together to fix this mess, and that’s not going to happen whilst you’re glowing, Fenris.” He frowned at the elf as he folded his arms and stood his ground.

“You do know my name; will miracles never cease,” the elf said as he let his brands go dark once more. “I’m getting something to eat, you all can fend for yourselves,” he added as he headed off to the kitchen in a huff.

“Maker, I hope I was never that charming.” the alien Fenris said as he watched his double leave. 

“Can’t say,” replied Varric shrugging. “Our elf’s always been on the prickly side but.... well, things haven’t been good between him and Hawke recently. Broody’s been opening his mouth and sticking both feet in with both Blondie and Hawke recently, and I think he’s still uptight over how close we came to losing Blondie to the templars. Both the Kirkwall Chantry and the Tevinter one have been sniffing around our favourite apostate healer and Blondie nearly got himself a little sunburst brand to match Hal’s recently. This little revelation of yours that you two fucked his lover? Final straw I suspect.” The dwarf shrugged. 

“I can’t blame him for that, I’d likely be somewhere drinking myself stupid right now. Let me talk to him, if you two can keep going with Arden?” Fenris said with a glance to Varric and Invictus.

“Sure, just don’t get into a fight with...yourself,” Vic said before he knelt before Arden and tried to get him to respond.

“I’ll try,” Fenris said before he went to the kitchen and cleared his throat. “Can we talk, just the two of us?”

The other white-haired elf went still, leaning on a countertop with his back to his mirror self, head lowered. After a long moment, he turned his head a little, staring to one side.

“Speak,” he said tersely.

The alien Fenris folded his arms and leaned against the table. “Look, I know you're unhappy with the news that we slept with Arden. I’m sorry for that, and for whatever has been going on here in your life. But don’t take it out on us. Do you think we want to be here? Do you think that any of this weird shit is something any of us want to go through? Right now both Anders could be using their life essence to save a dying man, just so we can finish destroying these mirrors. Is it worth blowing up at everyone?” the elven warrior asked as he observed his double.

The other elf whirled, one hand clenched into a fist. “Do you think I don’t know that?” he cried, a note of agony in his voice. “I can do nothing! Anders would gladly give up his life force to heal another, and there’s nothing I could do. Hal may die anyway, and I can’t prevent it. You have no idea what Arden put us all through, and now he retreats from me - from everything - and there is nothing I can do about that either!” He slammed his fist hard against the countertop. “You know what we are, what Danarius made of us,” he growled. “We are killing machines. But not one scrap of lyrium in this body of mine can do a damned thing to change any of this. It won’t save Hal. It won’t bring back Arden. And I cannot help Anders. What use am I? Nothing. Nothing at all.” He glared at the other elf, but his rage was all for the futility of his own existence.

The elven warrior watched his double and winced when he slammed his fist into the counter. “I don’t think anything can be done for Hal, I could tell that when we saw him in the Eluvian. Both Anders are the same, one still an abomination, the other is no longer one. I know the lyrium burned into me is little use, but we did discover something. We can be conduits for magic, opposite of what Danarius would use us for. The downside? It weakens the mage we use but it is an option to carry us into the Fade if that’s needed. So now, what was that about our lyrium being useless?” he smiled at the other fighter to soften the blow.

Fenris stared at his counterpart. “What good is that if Hal dies?” he said bitterly. “Shall we all traipse into the Fade to bid his spirit farewell then?”

“Maker, you are obtuse,” the other Fenris groaned. “In case we need a way to get into or out of the Fade. What if the arulin’holm Invictus brought doesn’t work here? What if it gets destroyed? We might need options in case any of us get stuck into the Fade. I am trying to give you options if you’d listen to me,” the elf said in exasperation. “This is my penance for every time Vic tried to talk sense to me, isn’t it? Stuck in another Kirkwall trying to talk to ...me is a trial.”

“Wait, what?” said the other elf, putting a hand to his head. “ _Venhedis_ , this makes no sense. Even if Invictus’ arulin’holm works on the mirror here, won’t that just strand you all here? Both mirrors have to be destroyed at the same time - how can you destroy your mirror at the same time as we destroy ours if....” He groaned. “My head is aching. You are as bad as Anders, talking in circles and never getting to the point. Speak plainly... please.” He frowned. “ _Fasta vass_ , am I as bad as this? Is this what I get for associating with a pair of mages? Have I lost the ability to speak plain truth?”

“I am speaking truth, you are twisted up in anger and hurt right now so you are not listening,” Fenris said as he finally took a seat and gazed at his other self. “Listen, what should happen is that we activate the Eluvian, we go home. Then we shatter the Eluvian in Invictus’ home when you shatter the one here. No more trips between worlds. As for Hal, hopefully he will heal once the mirrors are broken.”

The other Fenris blinked, taking in the other elf’s words. “So... if the arulin’holm fails to activate the Eluvian, you will... what, use your Anders’ powers, draw on them to take you all into the Fade and pass through the mirror to your own that way?”

“Yes, it will be a drain on both of us but it’s better than leaving our world empty of four people and you gaining a twin along with a few extras here. There’s also the ancient evil we must keep from coming through.” Fenris got up and put on the kettle just as if he were in Invictus’ kitchen and it was a fairly normal day. “I’m thirsty, you?”

The white-haired warrior stared at the kettle, then slowly shook his head as he made his way to the table and sat down, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t think Hal will survive,” he admitted quietly. 

“I’m sorry; it’s clear he means quite a lot to you.” Fenris poured them both a cup of tea and joined his counterpart. “What happened between you? Are you a quartet here?” he asked between sips of his drink. 

The other elf shook his head and laughed hollowly. “No. I slept with him behind Arden and Anders’ backs, and very nearly wrecked everything. Of course, whilst Arden was berating me for how what I did had devastated Anders, he wasn’t telling me he was letting you and Invictus shag him, the hypocrite.” He lifted his head and returned the other Fenris’ green gaze. “After Hal joined with Endrin, he found the sudden flood of emotions overwhelming, and it was I who found him in that state. I... cared for him, as we returned from rescuing Anders from the templars, and... well. I suppose something began to grow; an attraction. Or infatuation. Whatever it was, I... shared a bath with him one morning, and one thing led to another. Hal had never known a loving touch; he’d been abused at templar hands but never known the gentleness of a lover and... I wanted to show him how it should be. To make his first true time one of pleasure.”

He sighed and sat back. “I asked him to keep it secret. Why, I don’t know; Anders, Arden and I have always been honest with each other. When Anders awoke that morning, I kept silent over what I had done. But he found out; a stray white hair in the wrong place betrayed me. It was that I had not told him that hurt him the most. And Arden came upon us whilst Anders was distressed and crying.” He lowered his head. “His words to me were cutting and vicious. And I ... I thought everything was over, but Anders would not let it rest like that. He brought us back together again, but it was such a fragile, fleeting reunion. And now I find he betrayed us all first.” He laughed hollowly. “I am such a fool. Yet I will not regret what I had with Hal. He... deserves more than this fleeting grasp of life.”

“I see...I am sorry you all have gone through such pains, Fenris. Hopefully you can work through it once we are gone from here. Ironically, Invictus, Anders and I had a situation that nearly broke our fragile bond just as it was starting.” He sipped his tea slowly as he waited for the other elf to query him or leave.

“May I ask what it was?” asked the other Fenris politely. “I will understand if you prefer not to share....”

“Vic and I have a complicated relationship. He hates that he is a mage, and apparently he harbored a lot of guilt over his mothers and sisters death. Carver is a templar in our world and he even blames himself for that. So our relationship behind closed doors is...was one of me dominating him, and him submitting to me. Unfortunately, it was mired in his guilt and not merely a bedroom game as I’d thought. An unexpected comment from Anders brought it to light and we nearly came to blows, but Anders helped us mend the gap that had grown between us. I was distraught that all the things I’d done to him, all the things I’d had him call me, do for me and it was all to assuage his guilt, not because we were merely playing around. It was so bad, it made me cry, rail at him but we worked it out. I think you can work with them both and deal with it. Just don’t leave Hawke.”

The elf rested his hands together on the table and stared down at them. “It... is hard,” he said quietly. “If it were not for Anders, I think I would have left.” He glanced up, a small smile curving his lips. “How strange that in both your world and mine, it is Anders that has kept our respective trios together?” He glanced back to his hands, then seemed to come to a decision, pushing himself back from the table as he stood up. “I... thank you for... helping me see sense where all was confusion before,” he said quietly. “Let us see if gentleness will bring Arden out of this strange catatonic state he has retreated into.”

“It usually helps back home.” Fenris said as he followed his counterpart to the living room. 

The Fenris that belonged there knelt down by Arden’s knee and spoke softly. “Arden, please talk to us. I’m sorry I frightened you earlier, I lost my composure, please love come back.” he asked again.

The blond Champion sat motionless in the chair, head low, and for long minutes it seemed Fenris’ efforts were as futile as both Varric’s and Invictus’ had been. But then slowly the apostate lifted his head, his eyes still dull and lifeless. He stared at Fenris, and with a shock the elf realised the white streak in the front of Arden’s blond hair had spread until the mage was staring at him through a curtain of white.

“Why is your hair like that? Talk to me Arden, this is starting to scare me. Anger and all that aside, look at your hair, it’s white like when you came back from the other Kirkwall,” Fenris said in horror.

“I don’t know,” Arden replied slowly, his voice a rough whisper. “What... what’s going on?”

“What do you remember? Do you realize you’re home?” Fenris asked as he leaned up and brushed the long white strands from Arden’s face.

Arden blinked again then lifted his head a little, his eyes slowly roving over the room before coming to settle on Invictus. “You... you’re not supposed to be here,” he said with a small frown, then he winced and rubbed his chest with the heel of his palm. “Cold... inside,” he said quietly. 

“I know, I know...but Anders decided saving Hal was needed and he leapt through. We all kind of followed after. How are you feeling?” the other Champion asked.

“I’m not sure,” said Arden, still rubbing his chest. “Like something is... missing. Cold. How... how long have I been like this?”

“A couple of hours at the most,” his Fenris said quietly.

Arden dropped his head to his hands and groaned tiredly, rubbing his face as he drew a deep breath before looking up again. “I feel as though it’s been longer than that. Like I’ve been sleeping. Or... sleepwalking. Watching someone else who was me - like I was sitting in the back of my mind whilst something else lived my life. It all feels... dreamlike and unreal.”

“Sorry, it’s not the case. Come on and get up. You should eat and then all of us need to figure out what to do.” his Fenris offered as he stood and gave his hand to his lover. “The rest can wait, other things are at stake.”

Arden let himself be pulled to his feet, a small frown creasing his brow still. “No, it’s... it’s connected somehow. Something.... something was inside me, and now it’s gone.” He glanced around. “Anders. Where is Anders?”

“Both of them are with Hal. Come, let’s get at least tea into you,” his Fenris said as he led the blond mage out to the kitchen.

Fenris and Invictus sighed unhappily. They didn’t belong there and it was getting worse the longer they remained. Fenris checked Invictus with a hand on his arm, hanging back slightly. “You heard what he said?” asked the elf in a low voice. “Something inside that’s now gone. Sound familiar?”

“Demon? Was there still a demon inside him and its gone now?” he asked quietly. “Or ...Hal? Is he?” Invictus’ question tapered off as he looked towards the hall where both Anders had gone.

“We had enough demons plaguing us in our Kirkwall. Maybe something followed Anders last time he came through and stayed here? It... might explain some of what we have seen in Arden. You observed yourself he was not behaving as we recalled,” Fenris glanced towards the kitchen.

“Yes, but that’s a damn long time to have a demon along for a ride and not turn,” Vic replied. 

“It is - but remember; the foe we face is no demon, though it commands them,” replied Fenris gravely. “What if some small part of the Forgotten One itself came through? And if it has now left him....” The elf left the thought unfinished as he stared at Invictus.

“Shit…it might have gone to one of us, or Hal?” He stared back at his lover, eyes wide in recognition for what they faced.

“Hal. He’s near death. Or... _Venhedis_ , our Anders. He is no longer protected by Justice.” Fenris turned and bolted towards the servant’s quarters.

“Fenris, Arden come quickly!” Invictus called before he tore after his lover. 

As they drew closer to the servant’s room where the two Fenrises had left Hal in the care of the two blond apostates, they could see bright blue light flaring from beneath the door and hear Justice’s voice.

Fenris banged the door open and skidded to a stop. The black clad Anders was alight in blue power while the one who belonged with Invictus was still, his eyes wide and focused on his double. Hal lay sprawled on his back, eyes open and staring blankly at the ceiling.

Justice advanced on Anders, who seemed unable to move as a strange golden light flickered across his amber eyes. He didn’t glance at Invictus and Fenris as they entered.

“ _YOU WILL RELEASE HIM NOW, FOUL CREATURE!_ ” ordered Justice.

“I think not,” answered Anders, but in a voice Invictus had never heard come from the slender apostate before. Fenris frowned; the voice was vaguely familiar, though he could not think where he had heard it before. “This vessel will suit admirably for my purpose.”

“He’s no vessel, let him go!” Fenris said, then he heard his own voice echo his thoughts from behind him and shuddered. 

Vic pulled his staff free and held it at the ready for a fight. “Let him go, he’s ours,” he hissed.

The creature possessing Anders turned slowly and laughed at them, its voice echoing off the walls. “You are powerless against me; you can do nothing without harming this vessel.” It raised Anders’ hands, lightning dancing across his palms.

“Shit,” Vic and both Fenrises said in unison before they scattered to avoid the possessed mages’ attack. Arden stared at Anders and raised his staff even as the lightning bolt struck towards him and Justice roared in anger, flinging itself toward the possessed man and tackling him to the ground.

Arden barely managed to get off a counterspell in time, deflecting the lightning bolt back upon the possessed Anders and Justice as they wrestled upon the floor of the small room. “Andraste’s ashes, no!” Arden exclaimed horrified as Anders screamed in pain, his body convulsing as the electricity raced through his body. Justice held on grimly.

“Let go!” Vic’s Fenris shouted as he lit his brands and tried to siphon off some of the possessed mage’s energy. The other Fenris lit up simultaneously and dove forward alongside his mirror counterpart, phasing his hands and arms as he plunged them through Anders’ chest and out through his back, stopping short of touching Justice.

Anders’ eyes rolled back into his head as he screamed in agony, body jerking uncontrollably. He screamed until he had no breath left, his mouth still open wide in a silent cry. As his magic drained into the other Fenris, a faint hazy golden mist rose from his mouth and drifted up toward the ceiling. Then Anders slumped as Fenris slipped his hands free of the mage’s body.

“ _IT HAS LEFT HIM,_ ” intoned Justice as it stared down at the unconscious mage.

The other Fenris pulled his hands back and grimaced. “What the fuck was it, the thing we were trying to stop?” he said as he wrung his hands, disturbed at how it felt to touch so intimately but for such a wrong reason, and at the blood on his hands.

“Fuck, that’s not good,” Vic said as he helped his Fenris to his feet.

Arden brushed past and dropped to his knees beside the unconscious Anders as Justice rose to his feet and looked on silently.

“I don’t understand - the blood - why is he bleeding?” muttered Arden as he carefully rolled Anders onto his back. 

“Bleeding?” Fenris that belonged there asked as he stared in horror at the bloodstains on the other elf’s lover. 

“Did using my power do that?” the other elven warrior asked as he backed up and right into Vic’s grasp.

Arden was pulling open the tatty faded feathered coat and staring at the blood spreading through the thin linen shirt. Grasping the shirt at the collar, he ripped it open and then gasped at the imprints of hands upon Anders’ pale skin, blood seeping through them.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” murmured Arden as he held his hands above Anders’ torso, not quite touching as he drew upon his healing magic to stem the bleeding. “Fenris, what exactly did you do?”

“I just ...siphoned off his power but I didn’t do that, I can’t do that,” Fenris said emphatically as he looked at Anders’ torso and the bleeding wounds.

Arden didn’t dare spare more than a glance for his own Fenris before turning back to concentrate on healing Anders. “Love, you phased completely through him. I’ve never seen your powers do this. So there’s something else going on here.”

“ _HAL WOKE BRIEFLY AS THEY WERE HEALING HIM,_ ” intoned Justice. “ _HE PLACED HIS HANDS UPON ANDERS BEFORE COLLAPSING. IT WAS THEN THAT HE WAS POSSESSED I FEAR._ ”

“Does that mean Hal is safe for now?” Fenris asked, the one that belonged there in reply.

“ _I...do not know,_ ” said Justice as the blue fire began to die from his eyes, the immediate threat past. He swayed and then sank to his knees, dropping his face into his hands. When he lifted his head again, his eyes were amber once more, and Anders looked drawn and exhausted.

Invictus and Fenris helped the other Anders up and to a chair before Vic looked over to Hal. “He’s out cold.”

Anders rubbed his face tiredly. “We were healing Hal, and we seemed to be making some progress. The bleeding inside seemed to stop, and I thought maybe we’d cracked it. Then he suddenly sat up and pressed his hands against Anders’ chest and... well. Justice came out to protect me, and the rest you know.” He stared over at Hal. “Is he... actually breathing?” he asked quietly.

The Fenris that belonged there dropped to his knees next to Hal. “No, please… no. Not this, please.” he begged as he reached a hand out towards Hal. “Please...no.” he whispered.

Arden’s head jerked up and he stared at the still form of the red-haired mage. “No. He can’t be-” He pushed himself up and stepped over to the bed, studying the wide open eyes that stared at nothing. “No, this can’t be happening. Not after everything we’ve come through to get so far!” he reached a hand down to feel for a pulse.

“Oh Maker no,” groaned Anders. “Not after all this? No, that’s not fair!”

“Wait,” breathed Arden. “I think... I think I feel a pulse.”

“He’s not dead?” his Fenris asked hopefully.

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” said Arden. He laid a hand on Hal’s forehead, closing the staring eyes gently as he pressed the other hand on Hal’s chest and channeled magic into the other mage. Then he leaned down and pressed his mouth over Hal’s parted lips.

“What are you doing?” Fenris asked quietly as he watched Arden lean in for what looked like a kiss. 

“Helping him breathe, I’ve had to do that for Vic a couple times,” the other elf said.

Anders nodded. “With a touch of healing magic to help get things started again,” he agreed. 

Hal’s chest rose as Arden exhaled into his lungs, the breath hissing back out softly as Arden drew back to take another breath then repeated it. On the third breath Hal’s chest hitched and one hand twitched as he coughed faintly, and then as Arden drew back the red-head drew breath alone.

Fenris gave a shaky smile as he saw Hal breathe on his own and not struggle for breath. “Is he going to make it?”

“I don’t know, but... maybe,” said Arden.

Hal’s eyes slowly flickered open and he turned his head on the pillow. “Fenris?” he said weakly.

“Hal, I’m here...both of us. Well the other Fenris, Anders and Hawke are here. How do you feel?” 

“Tired,” the red-head admitted. “My chest hurts... but then it has ever since Flemeth touched me. It feels a little cold inside.” He seemed unperturbed that everyone was crowded into his small room.

“Can we help you up to a real bed? I dare say Anders could use a nap as well,” Invictus said as he wrapped his arm around his Fenris and looked to the Anders they had just freed from the creature’s influence. “Love, help our Anders up would you?” he whispered to his elven lover.

The Anders in question was groaning faintly as he rolled over onto his side on the floor, his amber eyes dazed and confused as he tried to figure out how he had come to be lying on the floor. He lifted a hand to pluck weakly at his torn, bloodstained shirt and then rub his fingers over the drying bloody handprints on his torso.

His Fenris came over and helped him up. “Sorry, you were right about being more vulnerable without Justice. Whatever was in Hal and possibly in Arden came to you. We had to fight, I’m sorry love.”

“What happened to me?” said Anders dazedly as he leaned against Fenris. “I feel so weak.”

The other Anders glanced up at him. “I think we all should get some rest,” he replied. “Arden, are the repairs finished on Carver’s old room yet?”

“I think so,” replied Arden as he straightened up. “Invictus, you three can take that room - you remember the way? We’ll get Hal up to his room.” He glanced at his Fenris. “Love, if you want to stay with Hal tonight... I’ll understand.”

“I…” Fenris wasn’t sure what to say about that, he hadn’t expected the offer.

“As will I, love,” said their Anders from his seat.

“Thank you,” Fenris said softly as he came over and supported Hal so they could go. 

Vic and Fenris helped their Anders upstairs to the spare room. Fenris was surprised to see the tenderness flash across his double’s face as he helped the red-head up towards his room. Hal was extremely weak, and Fenris had to almost carry him up the stairs.

Arden held out a hand to the black-clad Anders, who accepted it gratefully as he pulled himself upright. Arden wrapped an arm around Anders’ waist as Anders draped an arm across the blond Champion’s shoulder, and together they made their way after the others toward the stairs.

“Wait,” said Anders tiredly. “Isabela and the two Merrills.”

“I’ll have Bodahn make up rooms for them,” said Arden. “Let’s get you settled in bed first.”

“I think you’ll only need one room for all three. Which guest room has the largest bed?”

Arden chuckled as they made their way towards their bedroom. “I’m sure Bodahn will sort something out.”

Fenris and Vic entered the spare room and helped their lover settle on the bed before they undressed and slipped under the covers. “Fuck, I want to go home,” Vic said tiredly.

“You an’ me both,” slurred Anders, already halfway asleep, his face looking very pale and dark circles shadowing his eyes. “Wan’... sleep f’r... week.”

“Me three,” Fenris said as he curled up next to Anders and closed his eyes. Anders turned a little to curl around Fenris, reaching back with one hand to touch Invictus as though to reassure himself the other mage was really there. “Cold,” he murmured. “So cold.”

“We’re here, we’ll keep you warm love,” Vic said.

“It’s inside,” murmured Anders, and then his breathing deepened as he began to snore quietly.

Fenris sat up and looked at Vic. “What’s inside? What did you mean Anders?” There was no answer; Anders was fast asleep, exhausted and drained.

“ _Fasta vass_ , he _would_ fall asleep after saying that,” Fenris said as he flopped back to the bed.

“Don’t keep it going, let’s just sleep,” Vic said before he yawned and closed his eyes.

In Hal’s room, the red-haired mage sank down into his soft bed thankfully, resting against the soft white pillows as he watched the elf undress.

“I have been an unending source of worry to you,” he said quietly. “I am sorry to put you through this.”

“No Hal, please don’t say that,” Fenris murmured as he climbed into bed and curled against him. He brushed some of the long red hair from Hal’s face and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “The fact you’re awake and talking has made me happy.” 

Hal smiled wistfully up at the elf. “I am afraid for what will happen tomorrow,” he confessed quietly. “If severing the connection between the last two mirrors has the same effect on me as the last one did... I may not survive. Or I may be trapped there. I don’t know what will happen. We may find ourselves facing the Forgotten One; it’s a certainty it will seek to escape into either our world or the other when it realises what we are trying to do.”

“Then perhaps we should make the most of tonight? I...would like it if we could talk and perhaps learn each other in more ways than carnal,” the elf said before he pressed a soft kiss to the mage’s lips. “I regret nothing about the time we spent together, other than the distress we caused Anders and Arden.”

“I regret that also,” said Hal as he reached up a pale hand to brush an errant lock of snow-white hair out of Fenris’ eyes. “I would ask you to make love to me one more time, except I fear I have not the strength. What would you know of me?”

“I can be gentle and do all the work, but I’d have their permission first,” Fenris said softly. “What was your life like before the brand, do you remember it at all?”

“Yes, the rite took my emotions but not my memories,” replied Hal. “There is not much to tell, really; I was taken away to the Gallows shortly after my sixth birthday. I grew up in the Circle. My affinity for healing was uncovered fairly early and I was apprenticed to the healers. I never really had any skill at any of the combat magics.” He shrugged. “I was Harrowed shortly after my 17th Nameday, then made Tranquil a week later by Ser Alrik; I discovered him abusing some of the Tranquil mages supposedly under his care, and asked too many questions when one of the enchanters - my mentor - disappeared suddenly.”

“The more I hear of him, the more I’m glad we killed him,” Fenris said as he let his hand rest on Hal’s chest as the mage spoke. He wanted to feel the other man’s heartbeat under his fingers.

“In a way, my life only really began when Endrin joined with me and I was free,” said Hal quietly, enjoying the comforting weight of Fenris’ hand over his heart.

“I understand. I did not feel truly alive until I’d destroyed Danarius, taken his heart in my hand. Stay here, I will ask permission, if the mood does take us,” Fenris kissed him gently and pulled on his pants before he went to his room. 

Arden was sitting up in bed, Anders curled around him with his back to the door, head resting in Arden’s lap. As the elf entered, Arden was rubbing soothing circles over the other mage’s back as Anders’ breath hitched. Arden gently ran his free hand through Anders’ hair.

“I’m sorry,” Anders was saying quietly, his voice ragged.

“It’s OK,” said Arden gently. “It’s been a long day for all of us.” He glanced up and caught sight of Fenris.

“May I enter?” he said quietly. 

“Come on in, love,” said Arden. He continued to rub Anders’ back soothingly.

The elf almost hated to ask, unsure if they would see it as retribution for Arden’s earlier confession or a rebuke of both of them. “I...maybe I should go, Anders seems upset still and I don’t want to ask my question. It might make it worse.”

Anders straightened out and rolled over onto his back, turning his face towards Fenris. The soft candlelight reflected wetly off the tears that stained his face. “You’d better ask,” he said quietly as he reached up to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. “What my mind will come up with if you don’t is likely to be far worse than anything you could actually say.”

“Um...well, you said last time if I’d asked it wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d asked first? Well I’m asking, because he, well, it might be his last time and I...I don’t want it to be but…” Fenris trailed off, sure he was making no sense at all.

Anders levered himself up onto his elbow as he stared at Fenris. “You think he’ll die tomorrow.”

“It’s a possibility, especially given how he reacted to the first Eluvian’s destruction.” Fenris replied.

Anders glanced at Arden, and a look passed between them before Anders turned back to Fenris. “Go,” he said gently. “Be gentle with him; he’s still very weak and won’t be capable of much.”

“If we do anything, I just wanted to ask permission in case we wanted to. I’ll treat him well; thank you both,” Fenris came over and gave each man a lingering kiss before he headed back to join Hal. Anders threaded his hands into Fenris’ hair and sighed into the kiss before pulling away to curl up once more, burying his face in Arden’s lap. 

Fenris gave Arden a questioning look; the Champion shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips for silence. “I’ll explain later,” he mouthed. Fenris nodded, uncertain, as he withdrew from the room. He glanced back from the door; Arden was gently stroking Anders’ hair and murmuring something quietly to the apostate. Fenris turned away, hurrying back to Hal’s side. He slipped into the bed beside the red-haired mage, who turned with a welcoming smile.

“If we choose to enjoy each other, we’ve got their blessing as long as I am gentle with you,” the elf said softly.

“I trust you,” said Hal quietly as he drew the elf down for a long, lingering kiss.

“Thank you,” Fenris said as he returned the mage’s kiss, his eyes focused on Hal for any signs of pain or discomfort. He pulled away and slid down between the mage’s legs so he could repeat his earlier actions but this time more gently..

Hal’s breath quickened as he stared down at the white-haired elf, unable to hold back a faint moan of anticipation as Fenris’ head lowered.

Fenris smiled before he took Hal in his mouth, slowly, gently as he could. The elven fighter was mindful of the red-head’s condition as he pleasured Hal, his pace quickening with each low moan he heard from above him. He pulled back and gave him a shy grin. “There are ways I can have you without you needing to move much, if you wish that again; or I can continue what I’m doing. It’s all your decision.” the elf said in a low voice.

“D-don’t stop,” stuttered Hal, panting. “Maker, please - I need....” He broke off with a low, needy whine, and Fenris chuckled softly.

"As you wish," Fenris murmured before he took Hal in his mouth again and let his fingers slide further down to tease his entrance. Hal moaned as he felt the elf’s fingers brush around the entrance, nudging lightly before stroking firmly over his perineum, and he arched his back into Fenris’ touch. The elf pulled back enough to ask for slick before he resumed his sucking, head bobbing between Hal’s legs as the mage slowly writhed beneath him.

Hal obediently cast a swift grease spell, his palm filling with clear oily liquid as he held out a trembling hand towards Fenris. "Please," he begged, pulling his knees up as he parted his legs.

The elf pulled away reluctantly then oiled his fingers so he could prepare the red-head gently. His slick fingers swirled around Hal’s entrance and then a single finger probed slowly inside. Hal gasped as the finger slipped into his body, slowly working in and out as the ring of muscle inside slowly relaxed enough for the elf to add a second finger, sliding them in up to the first joint before pausing as Hal’s body adjusted to the intrusion inside before gently pushing further into Hal’s quivering body as the redhead gave small gasps of pleasure. His fingers scissored deep inside hal’s body, and Hal clutched at the bedspread, moaning, his face flushed. 

Once Fenris thought Hal was ready, he urged him over onto his side so the elf would do all the work. "Ready?" he asked quietly.

Hal arched back into Fenris' fingers, whimpering needily. "Y-yes, Fenris, please I-I need you...." he breathed, his body trembling with want.

The elven warrior pulled his fingers free as he slicked his cock then slid into Hal with a groan at how good the other man felt. "Tell me if I hurt you, want this to be good," Fenris moaned quietly. Hal groaned, feeling the elf fill him completely. He panted, lying still as he waited for his body to adjust, his body tight around Fenris' cock. After a little while he pressed back a little into Fenris, silently urging the elf to move; and as Fenris began to rock gently into the slender mage's body Hal turned his face into the pillow to muffle a cry.

That made Fenris stop and touch Hal’s side gently. "Did I hurt you?" he asked with worry in his voice. The last thing he wanted was to hurt the other man.

Hal shook his head, biting his lip. "Feels so good," he breathed. "Please, don't stop!"

"Alright." Fenris resumed his strokes, his voice a low rumble of pleased moans and gasps as he pulled out slowly then back into Hal with his own cries of need.

Hal arched back to meet each thrust, uttering little soft cries and moans each time the elf plunged back into his willing body. He reached back a hand to run it down Fenris' arm then pressed his pale hand over Fenris' own where it gripped the red-head's hip. "Harder," he begged, panting, canting his hips back so that each thrust would reach deeper, gasping with each teasing brush over his sweet spot.

He was cresting closer and closer to climax with each thrust, his cries interspersed with incoherent pleas and over and over, Fenris' name like a litany he clung to, his body trembling with desire, his head thrown back and eyes half-lidded as he felt himself surging closer and closer to the edge.

Fenris did as he was asked and went faster and harder into Hal; he growled out the mage’s name on each thrust, panting harshly as he crept closer to the edge. "Close...so close," he whined as he felt Hal clamp down on him.

"Come for me," the elf finally said as he snapped his hips faster against the willing mage beneath him.

Hal came with a shuddering cry, his spend hot against his skin, body jerking as he rode out his climax until he was wrung out, exhausted and sated, gasping as his heart raced from the exertion.

Fenris followed behind him with a loud cry. After a few more desultory thrusts into the mage’s lax body he pulled away gently and fell on his back, panting.

Hal tried weakly to lift his head but even that small effort was beyond him. He lay sprawled on his side, his breathing quietening slowly as his seed cooled against his skin, sticky and uncomfortable, aware of Fenris' spend slowly seeping from him, the backs of his thighs damp but unable to do anything about it but lie there limp, ennervated after their lovemaking; a little sore inside but not caring as he drifted in the afterglow.

Fenris sat up and got warm cloths to clean them off before he gently took care of Hal, then himself. He pulled the covers up as he laid there facing Hal. "Was that alright?" He asked nervously.

Hal managed to lift a hand to gently stroke the side of Fenris' face. "It was perfect," he said softly. "Thank you." He smiled sleepily, feeling himself begin to drift off. Part of him didn't want to sleep; this could be his last night of life, and he didn't want to tear his eyes away from the sight of Fenris.

But he was so very tired, his body pushed beyond its limited endurance even with the healing he had received from the two Anders earlier, and he was powerless to resist its insistent demand for rest. As Fenris slipped an arm beneath him and drew him close, Hal rested his head upon the lyrium-marked chest, feeling the elf’s strong heartbeat beneath his cheek. Lulled by its rhythm, his eyes slid shut and he fell into a deep, restful sleep, safe in the arms of the white-haired warrior.

Fenris lay awake for some time afterward, staring at the ceiling with his arm around the sleeping mage as he listened to Hal’s soft breathing, and trying not to think about the fact that Hal would likely die on the morrow.

Morning came all too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken a little while to get this chapter up - Cypher is in SF at GDC at the moment so we won't really have much opportunity to get on with Chapter 27 until Cypher gets back after the 22nd.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real, Hal learns what Flemeth has done to him and well, hearts are broken all around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Character death, violence, mayhem.

The Fenris that had come along with Invictus found he could not sleep, even nestled between his lovers. He was warm, well fed and for the moment, safe. The noises in Arden’s home had woken him, most tellingly the sounds that came from below the room they’d been given.

The low moans of the three women had crept into his subconscious and woken him from a sound sleep. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to realize how loud they were being. Fenris stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore the calls of Merrill and Isabela that filtered up from the room below.

After a particularly loud moan that seemed to come from both Merrill’s at once he’d had enough and sat up. Neither Invictus or Anders stirred despite his motions, so he crawled out of bed, dressed and made his way to the kitchen. He passed by the room where the other Fenris and Hal were entwined, a chance to see that his other self looked no more peaceful in slumber than he felt awake due to the door being ajar. 

The elf pulled it closed and made his way to the kitchen to find Orana had started cooking already. She turned but seemed unsure if he belonged there or if he was the interloper. He saved her the troubled by introducing himself as the other one. “Apologies Orana, but I am not the Fenris who belongs here.” 

“It’s alright messere...I am used to odd things happening around the Champion and his companions. May I get you breakfast?” the elven woman gave him a half smile, unsure what this copy of the elven master of the house could want, then glanced over his shoulder with a broadening smile. “Master Anders! You are awake early.” She paused, a doubtful look crossing her face. “That is... you _are_... ah... _our_ Master Anders...?”

“I am,” said Anders as he wandered in, looking as tired as Fenris felt.

“Morning Anders.” the elf said as he dug into his plate, unsure what else to say to this other Anders, the one that wore an earring to differentiate himself from the one in his world.

The mage dropped heavily into a chair and nodded thanks as Orana set a steaming mug of tea before him. “I take it the...ah.... ladies kept you up as well?” he remarked before taking a sip.

“Yes, I could have done without a chorus of screaming and moaning of their names as a wake up call.” Fenris muttered. 

“You and I both,” replied Anders, taking up his fork as Orana set his breakfast before him. “Not that sleep was particularly restful, but I would have liked a little more of it.” He began to eat slowly, and Fenris couldn’t help but contrast it with the way his own Anders tended to bolt his food still like a starved wolf.

“You’re different than our Anders. Better table manners, and you seem comfortable here.” Fenris said between bites of food.

Anders laughed. “I’ve been living here for over three years, with regular meals,” he pointed out. “Your Anders has some catching up on meals to do, I dare say.”

“That he does, but he’s getting better at realizing we will take care of him.” Fenris admitted slowly. “How is your Hawke dealing with all this? I saw...the other me sleeping with the red-headed mage as I passed by his room. I take it he asked permission this time?”

Anders nodded. “He did,” he said quietly. “Hal may not survive the destruction of the last two mirrors, and Fenris has... formed an attachment to him, I think, I hesitate to say ‘love’ - it’s... there’s been so little time. But... it was the least Arden and I could do. For both of them.” He stared down at his plate. “If Hal dies, he will take it badly I fear.”

“I’m surprised he’s gotten so close to him so quickly.” Fenris murmured as he stood to get another serving before Orana could pile his plate too full. 

“In his own Kirkwall, Endrin and his Fenris were together. Though I’m not sure how much that might be influencing Hal. Maybe subconsciously,” shrugged Anders. “As for Fenris... I’m not sure what’s driving the attraction on his part. Maybe sympathy. I don’t know. I think there’s something more than that, but I don’t want to pry.” He glanced up at the elf. “Fenris is a private individual - whichever Kirkwall he comes from.” He smiled.

“True enough, but you should be ready for his descent to grief should Hal perish. We can just hope that it’s not needed.” Fenris looked over the other Anders carefully and smiled. “They’re lucky to have you, I know I...I mean he can probably be difficult when it comes to emotions.” 

Anders dropped his eyes to his mug of tea. “I should warn you to keep a close eye on your own Anders,” he said quietly. “Without Justice to give him direction any more, he seems... even more cavalier of his own safety than even I am. He dragged you all with him because he was so bent on helping Hal. He may do something foolish.”

“He already has, hence we are here and not home. I cannot imagine the chaos that has ensued with the Champion, his lover and the Darktown healer suddenly gone from the face of the earth.” Fenris finished his tea and refilled it before he offered the other Anders more. “He is selfless, and I am glad of that for my own reasons. I would not be here before you if he wasn’t. But we will watch him carefully no matter what comes.”

Anders nodded. “He pushes himself too far with healing,” he said quietly. “More than I ever did, as though he seeks to give his life meaning - but that should not be to save another at the cost of his own life.” He looked up at Fenris. “I... should not tell you this, perhaps, but....” He broke off and closed his eyes, seemingly warring within himself briefly. He shook his head imperceptibly. “No,” he said softly. “He needs to know.” He was silent a moment. “It cannot hurt. We must... No. I must.”

He opened his eyes and fixed Fenris with a stare; a faint flicker of blue fire ghosted across his eyes then was gone. “Before Justice was ripped from him, your Anders planned to martyr himself and bring down the Chantry. He no longer has the will to do so, but I fear that subconsciously he is driving himself towards martyrdom. You must not let him do that. He needs a reason to live. I can only pray that between you and Invictus you can find and give him that reason. Don’t let him spend his life needlessly.”

Fenris felt the fork clatter from his hand as he stared at the other mage. “He...was going to do what?” he whispered in shock. 

Anders stared bleakly at Fenris. “He was a desperate man. He could see no other way to -” He broke off abruptly as blue fire erupted in his eyes. “ _IT IS OF NO CONSEQUENCE NOW, ELF. YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OF THIS._ ” Justice thrust itself back away from the table and stood, staring down at the silent elf. “ _DO NOT FAIL ANDERS. HE DESERVES TO LIVE._ ” The blue fire died, and Anders swayed, catching himself on the edge of the table as he bowed his head, panting.

“Maker, he’s getting stronger,” he breathed. “I can’t- ” He lifted his head and stared desperately at Fenris. “Please say nothing to Arden,” he begged. “I-I need some air....” He abruptly turned and fled the kitchen.

Fenris didn’t move, barely breathed as he tried to calm his racing heart. He’d barely seen the other Anders erupt into arcane fury and he was unnerved. He was still sitting there when the others started to filter into the kitchen. 

His Anders took in the expression on his face as he entered and immediately made his way to the elf’s side, dropping into a crouch next to Fenris’ chair. “Love? What’s wrong?” he asked, as Arden made his way around the table, pausing beside the empty plate and mug that his Anders had left abandoned. 

“Anders...when we get home, we need to talk.” Fenris said quietly with an intense look to the blond mage before him. “I just need to...go somewhere, get some fresh air.” the elf said softly, more like he spoke to himself than the others.

Anders looked troubled as he nodded slowly, glancing at Invictus.

Vic settled next to Fenris and tipped the elf’s face towards him, his expression tense and worried. “Love, you worry me...us when you check out like this. Come upstairs and lets talk alright?” he asked quietly. 

Arden glanced around. “Where’s Anders - my Anders, I mean?” he clarified, as Anders glanced at him, confused.

“He said he needed air too, maybe he’s in the garden?” Fenris said distractedly before he pulled out of Invictus’ grip and headed towards the stairs.

“We’ll be back in a bit, Anders come with me please.” Invictus said as he came behind his lover and steered him to the correct room. Anders stood and followed, glancing back at Arden with a bewildered look as he obediently made his way after the other two.

“Have I... done something wrong?” he asked quietly as he closed the door of the guest room behind himself, pressing his back against the door as he glanced from Invictus to Fenris.

Fenris looked at him and shook his head. “It’s what you wanted to do...the other you, told me about what you’d planned. To martyr yourself, how could you do that? How could you want to do that? Has coming into our lives, our hearts meant nothing to you?” the elf said as he pulled out of Invictus’ embrace and stared at the blond, his head tilted up and his eyes glittered in the candlelight as he looked up at the other man.

The colour drained from Anders’ face. “He... told you?” he whispered. “But... wait, that was - we weren’t-” he stammered, putting a hand to his forehead. “That was Justice, before we -”

“Then what do you have to say now? Without that spirit in your head? It was his ...own Justice that confessed it to me.” Fenris challenged him with a gaze while Invictus waited them out, curious as to how it was going to go.

“His... wait, no, you don’t understand,” said Anders, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. “His Justice absorbed my Justice. They’re... all one spirit now. There’s nothing inside now but me, and I... once Justice was gone, it was like I could think clearly again.” He lifted his head. “Whatever he told you I was going to do, it’s... I’ve changed. I have no reason to do that any more. It was always Justice driving me, but now it’s... don’t you see, I have no need to do - whatever he told you, that was _then_ , it’s all changed!” He stared at Fenris, dropping his hand, then turned to Invictus. “Do I look like a man about to martyr myself?” he pleaded.

“No you don’t, but remember we’re still getting to know you without Justice. Perhaps the Anders here thought he was helping you. He had no way of knowing what’s happened, and I don’t think he meant it with malice. He wanted to be sure you didn’t throw your life away.” Vic said softly as he leaned against the bedpost.

Anders stared at Fenris. “Do you think I would throw my life away?” he said quietly.

“No I suppose not. But it was unnerving to see him change before me, it was upsetting along with what he said.” Fenris replied just as softly. “I apologize...we have other things to worry about now.”

Anders nodded slowly. “We have a mirror to destroy,” he said, his expression grave. He ran a hand through his hair, frowning slightly. “I just hope Hal will make it through this.”

“As does my counterpart.” Fenris said before he turned to put on his armor. “We’ve got an agenda, best keep to it gentlemen.”

Anders nodded, stepping away from the door to pick up his tattered coat, straightening a few feathers before pulling it on slowly then reaching for his staff.

Invictus got ready and once he was armed as well, he opened the door for his lovers to make their way down to the foyer. He hoped that this descent was not to their end. He noted that Merrill, Merrill and Isabela had found their way downstairs and had made themselves at home around the table. Arden and the other Anders were nowhere to be seen, but Hal and the other Fenris were leaning against a counter, quietly talking as Hal sipped at a mug of tea, the elf’s arm slung around the slender mage’s waist. They broke off and glanced up as the three men entered the kitchen.

“Morning all, ready to get back to business?” Vic said with cheer he didn’t feel. His Fenris looked at his counterpart and Hal with a curious gaze, and their Anders had slung his arm around the elf’s waist in a mimicry of how the other Fenris hung onto the red-headed mage. 

Hal blushed a little at the elf’s gaze and turned his head a little towards his Fenris, who straightened unconsciously, his hand tightening a little around Hal. “We are missing our Anders and Arden,” Fenris replied in a low rumble.

“Well, has anyone seen them?” asked Isabela, glancing round.

“I’ll look for them, our Fenris thought maybe they’d gone to the garden. Seems a good a place as any besides their room.” Invictus said before he headed for the door that lead out to the garden behind the house. 

“Arden, Anders are you here?” he called out so neither mage would be startled by his appearance.

Two blond heads turned, one streaked heavily with white, and Anders and Arden glanced back at him. Anders’ eyes were reddened, and he ducked his head and turned away, hastily swiping at his face with the cuff of his shirt.

“We’re here,” replied Arden quietly. “Is everyone waiting for us?”

“If you’re ready, we can go to deal with the mirror. If you need more time I’ll let them know. Is there anything I can do for either of you?” Vic said as he kept quiet about the way the other Anders had been crying. It wasn’t his call and it was bad enough they were stuck in another world, he didn’t need to make their domestic affairs worse. 

Arden glanced at Anders, who shook his head briefly. “We’ll be there in a minute,” he said quietly. “We just need a little more time here.” He stared at Anders worriedly.

“Very well, we’re in the kitchen when you are ready. I need to make sure Fenris actually has breakfast before we deal with things anyway.” Invictus inclined his head and turned to go back to the house.

“Invictus,” said Arden quietly.

The other Champion turned and looked to Arden with a curious expression. “Yes Arden?”

Glancing at Anders, Arden closed the distance between himself and his dark counterpart. “Once this is over... that will be it. The end. We will never see each other again. No more crossing between Kirkwalls, likely nothing at all even in dreams. It’ll all be over.”

“I know...I’d rather not think about it until we have to face it. It’s been a wild ride Arden, but even this must end.” Vic replied sadly to his blond, fairer counterpart. “I’m sorry for anything I’ve done to harm you.”

Arden shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. Maybe in some ways I’ve simply had my eyes opened to myself better. But... I will miss you.”

“And I will miss you Arden Hawke. I owe you my thanks as well, you’ve changed me for the better. Anders and Fenris would thank you for it as well.” Invictus said quietly as he hugged the other mage briefly then stepped back.

Anders stepped up beside Arden. His eyes were still red, but dry now. “I’m ready,” he said quietly. “We should not keep Hal waiting.”

“No we shouldn’t.” Invictus said with a tinge of regret in his voice before he turned to go back and join the others. Arden and Anders fell into step behind him and followed back to the kitchen.

Fenris gave Anders a quizzical look as they entered, his arm still protectively around Hal; Anders merely shook his head as he reached for his feathered coat and staff.

Arden glanced to Hal. “You should eat something,” he said quietly.

“A last meal for the condemned?” replied Hal with a brave smile. he shook his head. “I don’t think I could stomach it, to be honest.”

“You’re not dead yet, Kitten,” replied Isabela as she got to her feet and gave him a wink. “Let’s not give up just yet, hmm?”

“Please don’t.” Fenris said from his place next to Hal. “I...just don’t please.” he repeated before he let go and went for a hot bun full of spiced meats and tea for the red-headed mage.

Hal dropped his gaze to the floor, blushing slightly. As he accepted the mug of tea, his fingers tightened around Fenris’ hand briefly and his eyes met the elf’s green gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m... afraid.” Fenris could feel the mage’s hand trembling.

“As am I.” the elf responded sadly. “You should eat, and then we need to deal with that accursed thing in the cellar.” 

Invictus had busied himself with plying his own elven warrior with breakfast and tea while their Anders had sat with the elf to have his own breakfast. The Champion didn’t eat much, but he did watch all of those gathered with a sad, pensive look. His life was odd, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The two Merrills seemed strangely unaffected by the atmosphere in the kitchen, tucking into bowls of herbed porridge and chatting in elven to each other, though from time to time one would break off at glance up at Hal and give him a gentle smile.

Isabela refused food but downed a mug of strong tea; Arden leaned against a countertop with a mug of tea as he regarded his guests and loved ones, an absent thoughtful look in his eyes.

Invictus caught Arden’s eye and smiled at him in return. His own heart was heavy with the knowledge that once they went home, that would be the last time. Arden had improved him, made him see things he’d ignored or hated for so long. He was a better man for knowing this other Hawke and he wasn’t going to forget it.

“It’s hard to tell the Merrill’s apart, but I can tell which Fenris belongs in our world and which one belongs here. Strange isn’t it?” he asked once he’d joined Arden in looking over the assembled group. 

“Hmm? Oh - yes, weird,” agreed Arden. He frowned slightly as he stared at the two Merrills. “How will we tell which is yours and which is mine?”

“Not a damned clue, can I interest you in keeping ours?” Vic said with just a hint of a smile to show he was joking, maybe.

Arden chuckled. “Are you quite sure mine isn’t likely to want to join yours? After all, in your world Marethari is still alive,” he said quietly. “The Dalish have moved on from Sundermount here, so there’s no going back for Merrill even if she wanted to.”

“What if they suffer as we did? One emotionally, and the other one, physically. Also, no Isabela in my world, the Qunari have her and I have a very angry Antivan Crow who I owe a debt to in exchange for getting her back.” Vic said very quietly as he watched both Merrill’s act in such perfect sync it was difficult to tell them apart. “Who knows? She’d at least have someone to relate to.”

“Zevran has you over a barrel?” asked Arden, surprised. “Rather you than me.” He shuddered, then fingered a white lock of hair. “This time you seem to be managing fine. Looks like I got the lion’s share for both of us.” He sighed. “I’ve been an utter ass. I shan’t deny I shall be glad to have things back to normal - but I’m going to miss you. All of you, in fact.”

“Yes, he’s got me over a barrel, gagged, no slick and dry as our farm during a drought.” Vic muttered as he stood up and stretched in anticipation of what was to come. “I guess you’ll be glad not to be awakened by noisy threesomes either.” he said with a pointed look towards both Merrill’s and Isabela.

Isabela glanced over at him and gave him an unrepentant wink as the Merrills put their hands over their mouths and giggled.

Hal glanced around the crowded kitchen, and cleared his throat. “If it’s all the same to everyone... I’d like to just get on with this, please? Before I lose my nerve completely.” He tried to smile, but succeeded only in looking at once both very young and deathly afraid.

Fenris, Anders and Merrill that came from the other Kirkwall stood up as one and glanced toward Invictus and Arden. 

“No time like the present as they say.” Vic said ruefully. “After you Arden.”

Arden nodded and turned to lead the way down into the cellar. After a moment, Hal followed, the blackclad Anders and his Fenris dropping in to follow behind. Isabela gestured to Invictus and his lovers with a jerk of her head as she slid an arm around the waist of each Merrill. 

Vic nodded in return and trailed behind her as Fenris and Anders walked with their hands linked and Fenris let his other hand rest on Invictus’ belt as they headed down the cellar steps. Vic stopped before the Eluvian and drew out the arulin’holm from his belt pouch. He stared at it, then at Arden before he turned to both Merrill’s, Isabela, both Fenris’, Anders’ and Hal. 

“Here we go, brace yourselves for anything to come from this thing once we activate it.” Invictus turned back to the darkened glass closed his eyes and prayed honestly for once in his life as he touched the elven artifact to the frame.

There was a brilliant flash of golden light that blinded them all. When they could see again, it seemed at first that nothing had happened - and then Hal gasped. Two Eluvians stood in the cellar which was filled with a strange green light. Through one Eluvian they could see an empty cellar just like the one they stood in; another cellar could be seen in the other Eluvian, but that one seemed to have a bloodstained floor.

Arden glanced between the two mirrors then took a hesitant step toward the empty cellar with no blood stains; and abruptly the room expanded into a vast hall with the two mirrors at opposite ends.

“We’re in the Fade,” said Hal in a hushed voice. “All of us.”

“Oh fuck.” both Fenris’ said in unison as they drew their blades and took up ready stances by their respective Hawkes. 

“Did I mention how much I fucking hate the Fade?” Invictus’ Fenris muttered angrily.

“Probably as often as I have.” his mirror-self responded.

“Alright, no one panic...yet. We should just keep walking towards our Eluvian. Arden you and your group stay near yours and I hope to Maker nothing gets in the way.” Invictus said even as he drew his staff and started to walk towards his cellar.

The blue-clad Anders darted a fearful glance up toward the ceiling. “Deep Roads,” he murmured. “Why does it look like the Deep Roads? My least favourite place.”

The black-clad Anders turned towards him, his eyes blazing with blue spirit fire. “ _DO NOT LOSE HEART, ANDERS,_ ” it intoned. “ _WE SHALL -_ ”

Whatever Justice had been about to say was lost as golden light suddenly coalesced in midair near the top of the vast hallway and took on solid form as an immense golden dragon. It roared, and then abruptly dove towards the two blond mages, mouth agape.

“What in the fuck….is that thing?” Vic screamed before he dove to yank them both out of the way of the massive creature.

Both Fenris’ lit up like beacons and went into action, eerily mirroring each other in a dance of blue-white light that countered the dragon’s golden sheen. Despite the ill suited wisdom of taking on the Fade creature, both elves launched themselves at it the second it touched down between them.

“Invictus shut up, and fight.” his Merrill said before she unleashed ghostly vines in an attempt to snare the dragon-thing and hold it to the ground.

Justice recovered before Anders, hurling a bolt of pure spirit energy at the dragon as the other Anders pushed himself back up to his feet and began calling up a lightning storm. Arden hurled a fireball at the dragon which the immense reptilian creature merely shrugged off.

Isabela stood to one side, studying the fight intensely, her own fighting skills not much use against an airborne opponent as the other Merrill darted in to compliment the other Merrill’s spellcasting and augment it with her own power.

Hal stared up at the dragon, hands at his sides, staring at the majestic creature as it wheeled and soared, looping round to dive back towards the two lyrium ghosts with a roar of flame.

Both Fenris’ smiled at each other with wicked grins before they tumbled away from the creature and went right back to hacking at it once it landed. The Fenris from Arden’s world phased his hand in anticipation of snapping it’s’ spine, or doing as much damage as he could but found his powers failed him as he tried to breach it’s scales.

“Need a new idea...can’t use…” his words were cut off as he was flipped off the dragon’s back and forced to tumble back and not be sliced open by it’s flapping wings.

“Back off!” his double yelled from where he’d retreated next to Arden. “Can you ...slow it down?”

“Anders… either of you, a little speed would come in handy!” Vic yelled as he readied a Gravitic Ring in the hope it would keep the thing close to the ground.

Arden gestured and cast a swift Haste spell as Anders and Justice linked hands and began some casting of their own. The two Merrills darted a glance at them then at each other then grabbed each other’s hand before doing likewise. Anders and Justice were weaving some kind of glowing blue cage around the dragon as the two Dalish mages created thick twining vines that snaked around the dragon’s feet, binding it to the ground.

Hal walked slowly toward the dragon, pausing to pick something up from the ground as he advanced on silent feet.

Both Fenris’ took a moment to catch their breath before they activated their brands and went at the dragon once more. They were bolstered by Haste and Rejuvenate spells from the mages and it gave them both the energy to go in tandem at the creatures wings, the rest could come later once they’d grounded it.

Invictus called out for them to stay back as far as they could before he unleashed his own spell to keep it down. “Our Anders, Tempest, Isabela, it’s held, time to get to work.” he called before he called up Haste to cast once it wore off on the others.

Anders glanced at Justice, who nodded encouragement as it too began to call up a Tempest. With a grimace that spoke volumes of the blond apostate’s feeling of being in way over his head, Anders began to go through the series of hand gestures that would release the building power he called up, unleashing his own Tempest upon the beast.

Isabela appeared beside Invictus briefly before vanishing to reappear on the dragon’s back, hacking away at the back of its neck with her blades.

Hal slowly walked up in front of the dragon as it roared defiance, glaring down at the miniscule figures that would dare assail it. He stared down at the object in his hand, then glanced at Invictus.

“I guess this is goodbye,” he said quietly.

“No… Hal.” Fenris breathed even as he ducked from a loose bolt of lightning. “No...please.” he said as he started towards the other man.

His counterpart nabbed him around the waist and hissed in his ear. “Don’t do this...you knew it was coming. We have to end this creature before it comes through to either world. Grieve and honor him but do not die as well.” 

Invictus nodded solemnly and turned towards Arden. “This is it...be ready.” he bellowed in rage, but his eyes betrayed how his heart had started to shatter.

Isabela suddenly screamed in alarm as the dragon reared up, the blue-white cage of energy dissipating around its golden body. The rogue was sent flying and she hit the ground with a sickening crunch, her cry cut short.

“Bela, NO!” screamed one of the Merrills, darting after her. The other Merrill leapt after her, only to be knocked aside by a sudden sweep of the dragon’s tale as it turned, diving down towards Anders with its jaws agape. Anders screamed in terror as Justice grabbed him round the waist and bodily hurled him in the direction of Invictus, only for the spirit to roar in pain itself as the dragon’s jaws closed around its waist, hoisting it up into the air.

“I have no choice,” said Hal as he held up the arulin’holm. Then he sprinted toward the dragon.

“ANDERS! No!” Fenris screamed as he struggled to get free of his double’s grasp. He finally elbowed the other elf in his side to get free and sprinted towards the dragon’s head his sword sparking as it clanged against the golden scales. “You will not have him!” the elf said as he hacked at it’s neck frantically to make it release his lover.

“Fenris...help him.” Vic said as he cast healing at the other Anders in hopes of keeping him alive. “Shit, we need to get it to let go before he bleeds to death.” 

Both Merrill’s had cast vines on the dragon’s head to force it’s jaw open while they tried to tend to Isabela who was too still against the elven women.

At Invictus’ feet, Anders was staring up at the figure of Justice as it hung from the dragon’s jaws, and he stretched both hands out towards the spirit, throwing all he had into healing magic. “Can’t let him die - if he dies here, he’ll be Tranquil!” he gasped.

Arden stepped up beside them, throwing his own healing magic toward the spirit as it slowly began to fall from the dragon’s gaping maw.

Almost forgotten at the dragon’s feet, Hal stared at the arulin’holm. “Now I understand what you did, Flemeth,” he said quietly. He closed his eyes, and then abruptly drove the blade into his own heart.

There was a flash of brilliant golden light, and then Hal collapsed to the ground. A shining golden mist slowly arose from his body which shimmered and disappeared.

The mist rose into the air before slowly coalescing into the form of a second dragon, this one sleek, slender, a beautiful red-gold with eyes of silver. It reared up before the first dragon, roaring in challenge, and the gold dragon rose up to meet it. Both dragons leapt aloft, and a terrible battle began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly our tale is wrapping itself up and there's one more chapter to go + epilogue. Thank you all so, so much for coming along for the ride with us.
> 
> ~ arkady & cypher


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all falls apart in the end.

The Fenris that belonged with Arden and Justice scrambled down to get their Anders over to where the other apostate and Invictus had stilled, both mages seemed awestruck by the sight of what Hal had been changed to.

“Dammit, stop gawking and help me.” He called out to them as he tried to get his Anders to swallow a healing potion. “Come on, please open your eyes, please. I can’t lose you, I can’t.” he said in a low rasp.

Anders choked, his eyes opening slowly. They were still hazed with blue spirit fire, but the fire seemed to dim even as they watched. Anders fought for breath, one hand clutching at the dark bloodstains soaking through his coat even as he coughed and dark red blood ran down his chin.

“Anders, don’t you dare die on us!” begged Arden as he dropped to his knees next to Fenris, pouring healing magic into the apostate’s body. The other Anders joined them, closing his eyes as he added his powers to Arden’s.

The two Merrill's looked on with awed amazement from where they sat next to where Isabela’s body had lain; of the pirate herself, there was no sign.

High above, the dragons twisted and soared around each other in a dizzying whirl of gold and red-gold shimmer and fire, claws rending at metallic scales with a dreadful clash like swords in melee. Dark blood rained down from above from myriad wounds on the bodies of both beasts as each sought to gain the upper hand.

Invictus cast a Barrier against the things falling down from the epic battle before he turned his own meager healing abilities to keeping Anders alive. “Fenris...either of you, need a lyrium potion.” he muttered as he found his energy flagging. 

Instead of handing him a flask, his lover touched Invictus’ arm to funnel power into his mage. “Better than a potion love.” he muttered even as he felt the draw on his power tugging at his brands.

“Too ...much drain on you.” Vic rasped even as he felt his energy return to him. “Stop...can’t lose you here.” 

Anders’ body jerked as his eyes rolled back in his head. He shuddered and lay still in Fenris’ arms.

The other Anders stared at him, aghast, then pressed his hands against the still mage’s chest. “No. I won’t let you go,” he said through gritted teeth as he reached deep within himself for more power. “Arden - electricity,” he hissed. “Shock his heart.”

“What?” exclaimed Arden, nonetheless obediently pressing a hand to the still chest. There was a flash of light and the still body jerked.

“Again,” growled Anders, and Arden repeated the flash of magic.

“What are you doing to him?” Fenris cried out and tried to stop them from further harming his lover. The other elf grasped him and tugged him out of the way. 

“Saving his life, don’t interfere.” he hissed in his double’s ear. 

“I can’t watch.” the other elven warrior said and turned to bury his face against his duplicate’s chest. “Can’t …lose them both, won’t survive it.” he muttered in Tevene.

Invictus called up his own ball of lightning and looked at the two blond mages. “I can help.” he offered. 

“No, wait!” cried Arden as the unconscious Anders suddenly coughed and drew a ragged breath. As the other Anders continued to pour healing magic into his wounded body, he slowly opened his eyes and stared around at them, dazed, his eyes once more a soft amber.

“Either I’m dreaming or there are two dragons fighting above us,” he said weakly.

“Not dreaming, thought we’d lost you too.” Vic said as he let his spell dissipate. “Let’s get you further back from the fighting. If it’s safe to move him?” he asked as he looked to Arden.

The Fenris that belonged there lunged out of his double’s hold and nearly pulled Anders off the ground as he clung to him. “You’re alive, you’re still alive.” he said hoarsely. “Thank the Maker, you’re still with us.”

“Easy, he’s still hurt,” said the other Anders as he sat back, exhausted. “He won’t actually bleed to death right now but be gentle with him.” He glanced to Invictus. “We should get him back through their mirror as quickly as possible.” He glanced up at the fighting dragons.

“Go, we’ll hold things here. Fenris you take him home.” Vic said before he looked at Arden sheepishly. “Ah, sorry I got a bit bossy there with your loves.”

Arden smiled wryly and held out his hand. “I guess this is farewell then, Invictus Hawke. I’m glad I got to know you.”

Vic took his hand and pulled him close in a hug. “As am I Arden Hawke. Take good care of them, and for Maker’s sake, leave being an asshole to me. It doesn’t suit you.” 

Arden laughed and returned the hug. “Don’t get too comfy being an asshole though. I’m sure your Anders and Fenris will help keep you on the straight and narrow.” He pulled back with a grin, then bent down to get an arm around his Anders’ waist as he and his Fenris helped the injured apostate carefully to his feet. He glanced around. “Merrill! Coming?”

The two Dalish mages stood up, still holding hands, and one shook her head. “No, we’re staying here, Hawke.”

Arden frowned, then glanced at Invictus. “You’re going back with Invictus?”

“No,” said the other Merrill. “You misunderstand us. We’re both staying. _Here_.” 

“In the Fade?” Invictus and Fenris asked in shock. “It’s the _FADE_ , you don’t belong here as mortal mages Merrill, er Merrill’s.” Vic said. “You can’t live here.”

“We’re not going to,” said one Merrill.

“We’ve decided,” added the other. “It was one of us who caused this whole mess in the first place.”

“So we’re going to stay and help fix it,” finished the first Merrill as they held hands.

“You ...but you’ll die here.” Vic said, but his next words were cut off by Fenris’ hand on his. 

“Love...let them make their own decision. We need to go, while they fight it out.” Fenris said softly before he turned to both Merrill’s. “Thank you.” he said before he pulled Vic to him. “Anders, it’s time.”

Anders nodded and stepped over to join Fenris and Invictus. He glanced back at Arden and the other Anders, and looked as though he were about to say something, then sighed and raised a hand in farewell. “Let’s go,” he said quietly.

Above, the dragons roared still, their voices harsh and metallic yet somehow almost melodious as they screamed defiance and wrath at each other, claws rending, teeth ripping, the bright colour of their scales now darkened by blood and flame. It was hard to see which had the upper hand - if, indeed, either had.

The two Merrills faced each other, palm to palm, and pressed their foreheads together. Their forms shimmered, shifted, and then a brilliant green dragon was winging aloft, screaming defiance and challenge as she flew straight as an arrow toward the golden dragon.

“Well that wasn’t expected.” Vic said before he felt an urgent tug on his arm from both sides. 

“They can handle this I think. We need to go and shatter our mirrors so nothing comes out the other side.” Fenris said.

“Agreed,” said Anders. “It’s two dragons against one, but I don’t fancy hanging around to find out who wins.”

“I know, I know…” Vic said with a final wave to Arden and company before he sprinted towards their Eluvian and instead of stopping, he barreled through the portal which gave way for the mage. 

Fenris followed suit, a low grunt of disgust for how the warped glass felt as it rippled over him. He held Anders hand so the mage would not be left behind, not in the in-between when he knew there was no way to get him back should he falter.

Anders clung tightly to Fenris’ hand, but couldn’t resist glancing back up into the sky as he was dragged through; his last view of the dragons was of a blur of gold, red and green as the three creatures twisted and twined about each other. Then he was through the mirror, feet stumbling, and he tripped and sprawled upon the bloodstained stone floor of Invictus’ cellar, breathless and aching.

Invictus turned and nodded to Arden on the other side, his composure breaking as he stepped back to let Fenris do the deed. 

“It’s all yours love, end it please.” he said as he pulled Anders back with him.

On the other side, Arden and Fenris had dragged the half-fainting Anders between them to the other portal. Arden glanced up at the dragons, his eyes wide in wonder even as Fenris hissed at him to keep going. They pushed their way through the portal and then turned to stare back into the Fade.

“Fenris, I think you and your counterpart have to destroy them at the same time,” Arden said, staring back across the void to the distant mirror where he could just about make out the outline of the other Fenris.

Fenris drew his sword but paused, staring back at the spectacle of the three dragons in combat. The red-gold dragon was bleeding from many wounds, one eye blackened and ruined by the gold dragon’s fiery breath, wings no longer glorious but shredded and bloody; and yet the dragon that had been Hal still fought on.

“Fenris,” said Arden, his voice low and urgent. “The mirrors must be destroyed.”

“I...know.” he said before he turned to face his counterpart. The elven warrior raised his sword and waited until the shadow of his double did the same. He counted to three then in cadence with the other him, smashed the Eluvian’s glass in silence. 

The mirror shattered, jagged shards of glittering silver and black scattering across the stone floor of the cellar as green, red and gold flames roared silently from the black void briefly, slowly dying away as the gilt frame began to crumble in upon itself, steadily falling to dust until all that was left was a pile of grey-gold powder upon the stones; and then even that faded away.

“Merrill. Where’s Merrill?” asked a voice behind them. They turned, and Isabela was staring at them with a wild-eyed look. “You didn’t leave her behind?”

“No...she, she stayed with the other Merrill to fix what they’d done.” Fenris said dully as he let his sword drop to the floor and him to his knees. “It’s over, gone.” he said flatly as he stared at the pile of dust that remained.

“Maker, why would she do that?” exclaimed Isabela softly. “Oh Kitten. Foolish, foolish Kitten.” She shook her head sadly and turned away. She glanced at Anders. “What happened?”

“The dragon got him,” answered Arden tersely. “I’d appreciate a hand getting him upstairs to the bedroom.” He darted a glance at Fenris. “Love?”

“What?” Fenris said without turning around.

“Love, Anders needs us. I can’t carry him by myself. Please.” Arden stared at the elf, struggling to hold Anders upright as the mage slumped, eyes rolling back in his head. “Fenris.”

The elven warrior pulled himself up and helped Arden in silence. With the battle done, and the Eluvian shattered, his mind was full of grief. Not just for Hal but for the deceit Arden had committed. With all that had happened he hadn’t forgotten, but it was not yet time to reckon that with his mage lover.

“Go.” was all he said, his gaze on the floor as they started up to their room.

The door to the room he had shared with Hal still stood open; Fenris could not bear to look at it as they passed, carrying the unconscious Anders to their room. Isabela silently followed, and as they laid Anders out on the bed she started to unbuckle his boots, helping them to remove his outer clothes.

“I should leave, unless you still need me for anything?” she asked, uncharacteristically quiet.

Fenris didn’t answer, he just went back downstairs to the kitchen, uncorked a bottle of red wine and started drinking from the bottle. He knew if he spoke, it would lead to a screaming match over Arden’s lie, his own breaking heart or the terror of seeing Anders nearly die before him. For as much as he’d given his double grief over falling apart, it seemed his limit had been reached and it was his turn to break. 

Once he’d finished half the bottle, Fenris looked up the stairwell towards the door that was ajar, his eyes full of tears that he’d tried to hold back. After he’d gotten another bottle, the elf went up to the room and shut the door so he could grieve in private.

He froze as behind him he heard the soft but unmistakable sound of breathing. Slowly he turned, barely daring to breathe himself, as he pressed his back to the door and stared at the form of the sleeping red-head upon the bed.

The elf clapped his hand over his mouth to hold back the scream he felt in his throat. Instead he dropped the wine bottles in his arms, unheeding as the glass shattered, scattering broken glass and spilled wine across the floor. Fenris dashed over the broken glass, uncaring for the cuts he felt as he fell to his knees and reached out for the mage. “How...I saw...I saw you stab yourself, please don’t let me be seeing things, please, please Maker. Please.” Fenris whispered as he extended a trembling hand out to touch Hal’s chest, which rose and fell in slumber.

The body beneath his hand was real, breathing, alive. Hal lay sleeping, his blood-red hair spread out across the pillows like silk, his eyes closed, lips slightly parted. His hands lay by his sides, and he was clad in the simple grey robe in which the elf had seen him last, unstained by blood.

“Hal...wake up please.” He pleaded even as he climbed up further on the bed and caressed the sleeping mage's face. “Wake up, please don’t let this be my imagination.”

The mage stirred slightly, a faint sigh escaping his lips as his eyelids fluttered briefly. Slowly the amber eyes opened and stared blankly at the ceiling. Cold fear struck dread into Fenris' heart; Hal had died in the Fade. Was he Tranquil once more? Would he even recognise Fenris any more?

“Hal, look at me. Please say something.” the elf begged again even as he winced when the pain in his foot made itself known.

Hal’s eyes slowly focused on the elf. “Fenris? Am I dreaming?” he murmured.

“I don’t think so, considering how much pain I’m in right now, I doubt it.” The elf said before he pulled Hal into a hard hug and started thanking whatever deities were out there for Hal’s return. “Please don’t be a dream,” he said in the mage’s ear with a tearful smile.

“I’m... alive,” said Hal quietly as his arms lifted to return Fenris’ hug gently. “I’m not sure how... but I’m alive.”

“I’m not sure either, but fuck if I care,” Fenris said softly. He kissed Hal repeatedly until he winced from the pain again. “Help me limp to the room, they’ll want to see you.”

“Wait,” said Hal. He pushed Fenris back gently, then took the elf’s foot between his hands. “You can phase the glass out, can’t you?” he said quietly.

“I guess. Not really thinking straight right now,” the elf confessed. He closed his eyes and focused on the shards that had managed to pierce the thick callous on his feet, and tried to force them out. 

“That’s it,” said Hal gently. He cradled Fenris’ foot in his hands gently, and channelled healing magic into the wound, healing it until the muscle and skin were whole once more and without pain. “Let me clear up that broken glass from the floor,” he said quietly.

“Leave it, I want them to see you whole again.” Fenris said as he stood up and grabbed Hal’s hands in his. He looked up to the amber eyes and laughed as his own smile lit his face. “I don’t know what happened, how you are still here but I will be thankful for all my days Hal.” 

Hal’s smile mirrored his own. “Just don’t step on any more glass then,” he teased, as he let Fenris draw him up from the bed.

Fenris agreed then carefully skirted the glass and led Hal to the master bedroom. He opened the door and let Hal go first, as he had no words to explain how he was there and not dead or even Tranquil.

There was a stunned silence and then the muffled thud of a body hitting the ground. Hal hurried forward and then paused by the bed beside the fallen form of Arden, who was sprawled on the floor out cold.

“Well, I should have seen that coming.” Fenris said as he went over to help Arden up off the floor. The Champion was a dead weight, and Hal hovered looking worried as Fenris managed to haul him up onto the bed. 

Arden groaned as Fenris laid him back, eyes slowly opening. “Maker, I think I just saw a ghost,” he slurred quietly.

“Not a ghost, Hal’s alive and here. He’s not Tranquil any more.” Fenris said with a smile.

“I don’t understand,” said Arden slowly as he pushed himself upright. “How? We all saw you die.” He stared at Hal. “I’m dreaming, this is all a dream.”

“It’s not a dream,” said Hal quietly. “I’m really here. I can’t explain how, but I’m alive.”

“And Merrill?” asked Arden.

Hal lowered his head. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Fenris glanced to Arden and then Anders with a grim look. “Maybe she’s in the Alienage? If Hal’s still here, maybe it’s possible?” he said with no conviction to his voice.

Hal shook his head. “She didn’t make it,” he said. “I think... perhaps she may have sacrificed herself to help destroy the Forgotten One’s form. It’s not dead - but it will take thousands of years before it will be able to reform in the Fade. She repaid Endrin’s sacrifice.”

“I see.” Fenris said as he slipped to the bed to caress Anders face. “Should we wake Anders now so he’s not startled by your return?” 

“Given how I reacted... well, he’s already lying down,” shrugged Arden.

“Wake him, please. Then I think I’m going to go get food in me and if it’s alright I’d like to spend some time with Hal.” Fenris said with a flash of anger that came and went so quickly it could have been missed. 

Arden blinked, his expression suddenly wary. He darted a glance at Hal before looking back at Fenris. “Of course, love,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. “It’s... just a normal sleep, he should wake if you shake him gently,” he added.

Fenris nodded then shook Anders by the shoulder gently, his voice pitched low as he called his lover to awaken. “We’ve got a surprise for you, open your eyes.”

“It better not be another dragon,” mumbled Anders as he opened his eyes, blinking tiredly. “I think I’ve had enough of being a dragon chew toy thank-” He broke off and stared at Hal. “I’m dead,” he said flatly. 

“Not dead, we’re not dead nor is he. It’s a miracle love, so no, you are not dead.” Fenris said softly as he carded his fingers through the dark blond locks affectionately. 

“Then this is all a dream,” said Anders quietly. “I’m going to wake up in a moment aren’t I?”

Fenris tipped his face towards him. “I’m not asleep, neither is Arden or Hal. He’s really alive and back with us.” the elf said with a grin. 

“Show Anders how real you are, since he refuses to believe it.” the elven fighter said with an even bigger grin.

Hal stepped to the foot of the bed and slowly, deliberately ran a fingernail up the sole of Anders’ bare foot. The apostate yelled and jerked his foot away, pushing himself back up the bed and away from Hal’s hand. He stared at Hal with wide eyes, then turned to Fenris. “How?” was all he could manage.

“I don’t know and I honestly don’t care right now.” Fenris said before he leaned in and kissed Anders gently. “Get more rest love, we’re going to get something to eat. I need it after my...binge a little earlier.” 

Anders sank back into the pillows with a stunned look on his face. “I don’t understand,” he protested quietly. “We saw him die.” He rubbed his face with one hand. “This is all very strange,” he muttered.

“Our lives are strange love.” Fenris said gently. “Rest, I’ll join you later and we can talk.” the elf kissed Anders on the forehead one last time before he went to Arden and whispered in his ear. 

“I have not forgotten about your transgression, my love. We will speak on it, not today or tomorrow or even next week but I have not forgotten.” He backed away, slotted his fingers in Hal’s and led the mage towards the door.

Arden sat still, staring into space.

“Love?” said Anders quietly.

“It’s nothing,” said Arden briefly. “You need rest. Go back to sleep; I’m going to go take a bath.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” said Anders as he rolled over on his side and pulled the covers over himself, tucking his feet well out of tickling range under the blankets before closing his eyes. Arden didn’t reply as he got up and walked over to the wardrobe, pulling out a clean robe before heading to the bath chamber.

Fenris led Hal to the kitchen and sat him down while he got the fixings out for sandwiches and worked quietly, his motions quick and efficient until a plate sat before them with five thick sandwiches and a pitcher of tea. “Dig in.”

Hal looked a little daunted by the amount of food but reached for a sandwich. He waited until he’d swallowed his mouthful then tilted his head a little to one side. “What did you say to Arden just before we came downstairs?” he asked, curious. “He looked like the floor had just dropped out from beneath him.”

Fenris glanced at Hal then back to his glass before he told the other man what had come to light while he’d fought to live back at the Hanged Man. “In short, I reminded him that it was still there, and I hadn’t forgotten.”

Hal stared at him horrified. “You can’t leave him hanging like that, Fenris!” he said, aghast. “His was a sin of omission, but to leave him waiting and guessing? That is cruelty.” He shook his head. “That’s... Fenris, you can’t leave him like that. You’ll drive him mad.”

“Why not? He came back to us and didn’t say a word Hal. He slept with not just Invictus but the other me and said nothing. Then he raged at me, fucking raged at me when he’d lied to not just me but Anders as well? Yes, I did wrong and I admitted to it.” the elf huffed in annoyance. 

Hal put down the rest of his sandwich. “When I was in the Gallows, sometimes one of the templars liked to play a cruel game with me,” he said quietly. “He would whisper that he would come for me, but I would not know when - maybe within the hour, maybe not for a few days. And every time I saw him in the hallways, I would wonder, ‘is this the moment?’ By the time he finally came, I was almost ready to beg him to get it over and done with.” He looked up at Fenris. “I am sure you had similar experiences,” he said quietly. “Tell me, do you think Arden truly deserves that kind of torture?”

The elf looked away guiltily for long moments before he turned to Hal. “I guess not. But...he, he was so furious with me yet he knew what he’d done.” Fenris said before he dropped his face to his hands. “Why can’t I be a better man and forgive easily? Why must I be like this?” he asked aloud.

Hal stared at his hands, folded in his lap. “After our... first time,” he said softly, “You asked me to keep silence over what we had done. How did Arden find out? I kept silent.”

“Anders found some of my hair, I guess in here when he came to wake you.” Fenris said, his expression remorseful. “I tried to apologize, I begged, I pleaded on my knees but it upset him more. When Arden came in to see what the racket was, I confessed.”

“And had he not found those hairs?” asked Hal, not lifting his eyes.

“I don’t know, the guilt was eating at me as it was. I might have broken and confessed anyway.” Fenris admitted softly. 

Hal raised his eyes. “And do you think he felt no guilt?”

“I don’t know… he didn’t deem it important enough to tell us. I’m a hypocrite then, a fucking hypocrite.” Fenris said darkly.

“Or maybe he knew how you would react and didn’t know how to tell you,” suggested Hal. “What happened when you found out? How did he react?”

Fenris wiped at his face before he looked at his...lover he supposed. “You’re a sneaky man Hal. I have done the same to you, that first time.” the elf looked away, ashamed at himself. “He knew I’d likely go ballistic.” 

Hal’s eyes were sympathetic. “And when you confronted him?” he repeated. “Did he seem to react like someone who thought his indiscretion unimportant?”

“No...he shut down. Much like I am wont to do.” Fenris said before he put his head down to the table. “I’m a horrible person.” 

“No... just a man, Fenris. Much as Arden is just a man. Both mortal, both capable of making mistakes.” He sighed. “So, I ask again: does Arden deserve the torture he is undoubtedly feeling right now?”

“No.” Fenris whispered harshly.

Hal smiled at him sadly. “Talk to him,” he said gently. “He will be hurting too - and very much afraid right now.”

“I’m scared.” the elf admitted reluctantly.

“What of?” asked Hal. “That he will be angry? That he will not want to speak of it?” He regarded the elf silently for a moment. “That he will not want you afterwards?” he said very softly.

“Yes...to all of that. That in my rage, I turned him away from me, that he might not love me anymore.” Fenris said as he wiped fresh tears away. 

“Then by leaving him waiting, you torment yourself also,” said Hal. “Would it not be better to get it over and done with and know, one way or another?”

“I suppose. Will you sit with Anders while he and I talk?” Fenris said sadly before he rose to daub his face with cold water so he would not look as if he had been crying.

“Of course,” nodded Hal as he rose, picking up the platter of sandwiches. “If he is still awake he will likely be hungry,” he added.

“Let’s go.” Fenris said in a rush as he turned to head up the stairs. He went back to the room to find Anders had curled into a chair by the fireplace and Arden was nowhere to be found. 

“Where’s Arden?” the elf asked quietly.

Anders glanced round and frowned. “He said he was going to take a bath, but that was some time ago,” he said. “I fell asleep again, so I don’t know how long he’s been gone.”

Hal set the platter of sandwiches down on a low table near Anders’ chair. “You should eat,” he said.

“I’ll check on Arden, thank you.” Fenris went into the bathing chamber and shut the door quietly before he called to the champion. 

“Arden?”

He could just see the top of Arden’s dark blond head above the edge of the tub; the mage was silent.

“I can see you, it’s not easy to hide that blond hair of yours Arden. Will you come out so we can speak?” Fenris asked as he held up a towel for the mage.

There was a faint splash as the mage shifted slightly in the water, his head dipping slightly lower into the water as he remained silent.

“Arden, come on. It’s been a long fucking day, I’m ...I’m scared of what you’re going to say and I just want to get it over with. If you hate me, just tell me so I can work on mending my heart.” Fenris said with a tremor to his voice he didn’t like. 

There was the sound of an indrawn breath and then a choking sound from the tub as Arden jerked in the water.

Fenris dropped the towel and skidded over to the tub so he could pull the mage from the water. “That was not a cue to inhale half the tub.”

Arden coughed, spitting up water as he clutched at the elf. “Was- wasn’t-” he tried to gasp, in between coughs. He knelt on the tiles, retching up water. 

Fenris rubbed slow circles on Arden’s back until he stopped hacking up water. “Once you are dry and dressed, let’s go elsewhere to speak. Unless you would tell me now whether you despise me for the way I acted before. I ...I did not mean to send you into such shock.” 

Arden reached for his hand and grasped it tightly as he fought for breath. “Don’t go,” he managed to gasp. “I never despised you.”

“I’m not going.” Fenris said softly as he bundled up his lover and started to dry him. “You should.” he said as he toweled Arden off briskly. 

“Which?” asked Arden, bewildered. “Go, or despise you? I’ll do neither.”

“You should despise me.” Fenris said sadly. “I am...I am not who you deserve Arden. I am not worthy of your affections, nor do I deserve them. I’ve hurt you and Anders, and in my rage, I hurt you too.” the elf said as he moved on to Arden’s hair. 

Arden ran his hands slowly over his face. “I’m not exactly innocent myself; that’s how we got into this mess in the first place,” he said tiredly. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly as the elf worked the moisture out of his long hair, half dark blond, half white.

“I’m scared alright? The hardened, broken ex-slave said it. I’m just fucking scared you hate me, and I’ve ruined it all with how I lashed out at you. Just…” Fenris paused and wrapped his arms around Arden, pressed his forehead against the mage’s back and trembled. “Just please don’t leave me Arden. It would end me.” the elf admitted as he held onto his lover and let the tears he’d kept at bay finally go.

Arden lifted his own arms to cross them over Fenris’ arms, dropping his head to rest his cheek against the elf’s forearm. “I was afraid you would leave me,” he replied. “Now Hal is alive and free...” He closed his eyes. “I thought you were going to hold the threat of what you would say hanging over my head. I couldn’t - it would have driven me mad,” he confessed. 

“Hal made me see how cruel I was to do that to you.” Fenris said softly as he laid fully against Arden’s back. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done wrong to you love.” 

“You were hurting,” said Arden quietly. “And I’m sorry too. I feel like the past year has been one long nightmare, one from which I wondered if I would ever wake up. I’ve become the kind of man I...” His head drooped. “My father would have been so disappointed in me. I’m glad Mother is not alive to see what I’ve become.”

“Don’t say such things of yourself. This past year has hurt and tested us all beloved. We’ll heal, we’ll deal with things as they come. There’s also Hal to consider, he’s alive and no longer Tranquil. He’s also gotten a part of my heart.” Fenris’ voice hitched at the mention of Hal and what could happen.

“So we’d surmised - Anders and I,” said Arden quietly. He smiled a little. “It could be interesting, having two Hawkes around the place. But are you sure you could handle living in a house with _three_ mages, love?”

“Is he still a Hawke? Or is he just Hal?” Fenris mused as he sat back and dried his face once more. “If the sex doesn’t kill me, I can handle it.”

Arden made an odd choking sound.

“I thought you got the water out of your mouth.” Fenris said with a little huffed laugh. “Besides, three mages that can turn me out with their power might be a bit much at first. Three healers love, you know what Rejuvenate does to me.”

Arden bent over, rubbing his chest as he coughed. “Wasn’t expecting that,” he gasped. He twisted round and fixed Fenris with a glare. “You did that deliberately didn’t you?” he accused.

“Not really, just being hopeful.” Fenris deflected as he got to his feet and helped Arden up. “Come on, let’s go before they think you drowned or I’m shagging you senseless.”

“I feel half-drowned,” admitted Arden.

“You did try to inhale the bath water.” Fenris said as he wrapped an arm around Arden then escorted him back to their room. He opened the door and let Arden sink to the chair next to Anders. 

“How’s things going in here?” the elf asked before he poured himself a stiff drink.

Anders glanced at Arden who was still coughing a little. “Did you try to drown him?” the apostate asked with a worried look.

“No, I nearly drowned myself,” replied Arden, a little breathlessly.

Hal was curled up in the chair opposite Anders, asleep with Anders’ coat draped over him.

“No and that’s not funny.” Fenris said with a glance at the other blond mage. “I’ll take Hal to his room, I’ll be back in a while.” the elf tipped his drink back to drain it with a satisfied sigh. 

Anders glanced over to the sleeping mage. “Leave him a little while longer,” he suggested. “He’s just drifted off.”

“Very well.” Fenris huffed as he curled up on the bed and leaned against the headboard.

Anders settled back in his chair, his gaze drawn to the fire. “So,” he said quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping mage. “Think the bed will be big enough for four?”

“Ask the Champion.” Fenris said, with a bit of fire in his eyes. He’d wanted to be selfish and keep Hal to himself but realized that would be just as bad as continuing to sleep with him behind their backs. 

Arden blinked as he stared over at Fenris. “Hal is welcome to join us if he and Fenris want to,” he said carefully. “It’s up to them. It might be a little cozy, but the bed could handle four I think. But it’s probably best if Hal also has his own room still.”

“If not, then can we get a bigger bed?” Fenris asked just as carefully as Arden had answered him.

Arden shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” he replied. “It might have to be specially built in the room though.”

“We’ll see if it’s needed.” Fenris stretched out across the bed and stared at his lovers, all three of them. “Thank you.” he said simply, and turned over to his stomach to watch all three mages under his care.

Arden finally relaxed back into his chair, unaware he’d been tensed. He glanced over at the sleeping Hal, and found himself wondering how Invictus was faring.

It seemed so strange to think he would never see the other Hawke again.

**

In the other Kirkwall, Invictus, Fenris and Anders had all retired to their bedroom after a long hot soak in the massive tub that Invictus had brought from Orlais. The elf was half-dozing next to Invictus and Anders.

Vic was tracing lazy circles along Anders shoulder as they spoke quietly, unsure what to tell the others about Merrill’s disappearance, the time they’d been gone and all the havoc caused by what had happened. 

“I’m so glad that’s over with. I could do with less adventure for a while.” Vic said between pressing kisses to Anders shoulder and temple.

Anders hummed with pleasure, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the feeling of relaxing in a warm, soft bed, his muscles unknotted after the hot bath. “I feel like I could sleep for a month,” he said quietly. “I don’t think even Varric would believe our story.”

“I barely believe it and I was there.” Vic said as he let his kisses trail further up Anders neck and face. “Is it wrong I could do with a shag even as tired as I am?”

Anders chuckled quietly. “No, but don’t expect me to do much of the work,” he murmured. “I feel like I couldn’t move for anything right now.”

“It’s alright, I am fine with some cuddling and kisses for now.” Vic chuckled before he started to worry the blond mages ears, and curled his fingers into the dark strands. “Besides, I think Fenris will be cross if we get up to too much fun while he’s knackered.”

Anders made a little gasping sound of pleasure at the brush of Invictus’ fingers against his scalp and tilted his head back. “You can keep doing that,” he purred.

“Such a cat, even when half awake and ready to roll over for pleasure at my hands.” Vic said softly.

Fenris opened one eye and glanced at them. “If you’re going to fuck, I’m going down the hall.” he said tiredly. “How do you even have the energy to talk right now?” he muttered before he flopped back into the comfortable bedding.

“You should know me well enough by now to know I never shut up,” said Anders. “I just can’t- _ohhhhh_. There. Just....” He groaned softly.

“I think he might have an orgasm just from petting his head Vic.” Fenris said in amusement. “You two have fun, I’m going to go downstairs and get something to eat. If you’re busy I’ll find something else to do, but no one is touching me until I’ve had at least eight hours of sleep.” the elf said as he slipped from the bed. 

Anders arched his back under Invictus’ touch, barely aware of the elf’s movements. “Oh Maker,” he moaned quietly. “Keep doing that and you can do anything you like to me.”

Fenris smiled as he returned to the bed and slipped his fingers into the blond strands and tugged just enough to whisper a promise to the other man. “Long as I get to watch, especially if it involves that vest.” 

Vic grinned as he continued to trail blunt nails down the other man’s scalp even as Fenris released him. Anders’ eyes opened as the elf pulled back, his pupils large and dark as his breath quickened.

“Do what you want, I’ll be back to watch later.” Fenris kissed Invictus slowly before he left them to play. 

Anders rolled over onto his stomach, fingers curling into the bedding as he groaned. “Not sleeping now,” he muttered, voice muffled by the pillow as he felt himself hardening, his cock trapped against his stomach.

“Hmm, too bad I can’t talk Fenris into being dominant, I’m in the mood for it, and before you say anything, it’s because I just want it. Not for all the wrong reasons, not like before.” Vic said quietly as he continued to massage the other mage’s scalp. “Maker you’re sensitive.”

“Can’t help it,” said Anders, fighting the urge to rut into the mattress. The continual touch upon his scalp had his skin hypersensitive and craving touch elsewhere. “You could say I was starved of touch for- _ohhhh._ ” He shivered.

“That’s in the past, I think we can make up for lost time for that love.” Vic said before he let one hand trail down Anders spine, then back up with more pressure. “You ...react so beautifully to us, to our touches. It’s interesting to see someone fight so hard against his own urges.”

Anders arched his back into Invictus’ touch then whimpered. He glanced back over his shoulder, his face flushed. “You’re maddening,” he breathed.

“What can I do for you Anders? Remember when you said I never asked what you needed? Well I’m asking now. Tell me what you want.” Vic rasped as he curled his fingers into claws and raked them down Anders back with the intent of making him writhe.

Anders didn’t disappoint; he cried out, writhing helplessly beneath Invictus’ hands. “Oh Maker,” he groaned, before biting his lip, fighting hard against his own urges. 

“Well, since you can’t talk right now maybe I’ll just try to figure out what you want.” Vic moaned in his ear before he tugged the mage’s sleep shirt off and tossed it aside. While he’d been a bit rough with a barrier between his hands and the other man’s scars, Invictus was much gentler as he traced each mark on Anders back with a light touch.

First with with his fingers, then with his tongue, he traced the map of marks slowly, reverently for all the other mage had survived. After a while Vic straddled Anders and conjured a bit of slick to his hands then warmed it up before he started to knead the others man’s shoulders and neck.

“Better?” he asked quietly. 

“Not yet, I think I should be next in line once you’re done with him.” Fenris said as he shut the door and slipped onto the bed and took up what Vic was doing to Anders scalp. “I think this will make him either explode in pleasure or fall asleep.”

Anders moaned quietly, writhing beneath their ministrations. “S-so good,” he managed to mumble.

“Yes, yes we are.” Fenris rumbled. 

Vic smiled at his lover and put more pressure on the blond mage’s back, to work on a knot he’d found in his shoulder that wouldn’t give. Anders cried out, burying his face in the pillow as his fingers clenched at the bedding. As the knot slowly loosened under the pressure of Invictus’ strong fingers Anders shuddered and then slowly relaxed again, panting into the pillow.

“Can you tell us what you want yet? Or want us to keep you going until you just come from our touch?” Vic whispered in Anders ear before he tugged on it with his teeth.

Anders groaned, pinned beneath the other mage’s weight. A certain need was becoming quite urgent, and he could feel a slight dampness against his skin where his needy cock was pinned between his stomach and the covers. He closed his eyes as he ground mindlessly against the coverlet, the smooth satin not giving enough friction for relief.

“I think he needs more but you’ve rendered him speechless Vic.” Fenris purred as he pulled away to get the oil and hand it to his lover. “Take him over.” the elf’s gaze was intense as he watched Invictus open the vial and coat two of his fingers.

“You heard him, spread for me, don’t come yet. Not until I’m deep inside you and making you call out in ecstasy.” the champion growled in his mage lover’s ear.

As Invictus shifted his weight back off Anders, the blond apostate obediently spread his legs, turning his face to one side to gasp for breath, eyes half-lidded.

“If you come anyway, maybe Fenris will have to punish you.” Vic said as he slipped his fingers into Anders and hooked them in a way that dragged and pushed as he stroked fast into the other man. “Unless you want to be punished like the naughty mage you are.” 

“If he comes too soon, you both might get it.” Fenris said as he scooted back to slip his pants off and entice Anders to suck him.

The blond apostate whimpered, his body shivering with need as each touch deep inside him threatened to push him closer and closer to the edge. “W-what... what...” he gasped, unable to get the question out as he shuddered, closing his eyes as a wave of pleasure rolled through him.

“What was that love?” Vic asked as he added a third finger and sped up his thrusts. “Mage got your tongue? Or elf?”

Anders bit his lip hard, the pain serving to give him a little control and push his building climax back, even as he canted his hips back so that the mage could reach deeper. “Please,” he gasped, tasting blood.

“Please what?” Fenris asked even as he tugged Anders hair and tilted his head towards his cock. 

“Dunno if he wants my cock in his ass or yours.” Vic said in a low, strained whisper. “What do you want love?”

Anders allowed himself to be tugged up onto his hands and knees, his arms trembling as he braced himself, a little trickle of blood running down his chin as he opened his eyes to stare up at Fenris. “Can’t hold on m-much longer,” he panted. “P-please...”

Vic smiled as he slicked himself up and entered Anders in one strong, easy stroke. “Much better.” he moaned with each pull backwards until the room was filled with the sounds of flesh on flesh and breathy moans from all three men. Anders’ eyes fluttered shut as he gave a gasp each time Invictus thrust into him, the gasps giving way to urgent cries as he came closer and closer to climax, his arms and legs trembling with the strain.

Fenris settled for stroking his cock and making Anders come close to not quite close enough to suck him. “Maybe I’ll let you once he comes.” the elf panted.

Vic grasped Anders hips harder than expected as he tipped over towards his own orgasm. He moaned wantonly as his rhythm faltered and he stilled finally against the other mage. Anders whimpered as he felt the other mage’s seed spend inside him, hot and wet, his own orgasm so close but held back, his eyes opening to stare desperately at the elf.

“Please,” he begged hoarsely, voice needy and low.

Fenris smiled and let his hands glow bright blue. “Open to me, let yourself go Anders.” the elf said as he tugged the mage towards him and urged him to open up. “Take us both over.” he gasped as he felt the other man’s mouth close over his cock. “Close...so close.” 

Anders opened himself up to his magic, letting the elf draw upon it; as the power fed back through the elf’s hands back into him the blond apostate’s eyes rolled back into his head as he came hard, his ragged cry choked by the elf’s cock deep in his throat.

Fenris called out as his own pleasure was triggered by the power flowing through him. He fell back and broke the connection with Anders with a harsh cry. “M...Maker…” he said before he fell backwards and let his head hang off the edge of the bed. Anders collapsed over him, his eyes still rolled back as his body shivered and jerked, riding out his own climax.

Invictus pulled away finally and got to his feet, stumbled over the bedding strewn over the floor before he made it to the basin for hot flannels and soap. He turned around to see Fenris’ hand in the dark blond strands that covered how Anders still had his mouth full of the elf. 

“Anders...Anders…” Fenris moaned as he twitched under the mage’s mouth even as they both lay sated, but unable or unwilling to separate. The blond mage lay still and limp, sprawled upon the bed with his face pressed against the elf’s groin.

Fenris sat up as he felt the bed shake as Vic tried to rouse Anders, or at least separate him from Fenris’s cock.

“Let go of him before you choke.” Vic said before he finally pulled Anders up by his hair then rolled him to his side. Anders fell heavily onto the bed, his eyes closed as he lay limp. For a moment he appeared not to be breathing, but then he drew a ragged breath.

“Is he alright?” the elf rasped before he turned around and checked on their apostate lover.

“I think so.” Invictus said as he tried to get a reaction from the other mage. “Anders, say something.”

Anders mumbled something incoherent, his eyelids shivering but not opening.

“Anders, fucking say something you’re scaring me.” Fenris said in a near panic. “Come on…”

Anders opened his eyes slowly, his gaze unfocused. “Andraste’s flaming arse, that was amazing,” he breathed softly before his eyes slid shut again.

“Well that was something.” Fenris said in relief before he took one of the flannels from Vic and wiped himself clean. “Take care of him love and I’ll get a new comforter.”

“You got it.” Invictus said quietly as he washed Anders clean, then replenished the water and got new flannels to clean the blond off before he tended himself. Invictus even helped to move Anders around until he was stretched in the middle of them, a new, clean cover draped over the three men.

“I think we broke him Vic.” Fenris said as he curled protectively around the blond mage. Anders had barely stirred as Invictus tended him, and as Fenris rested his head upon Anders’ chest the blond apostate began very quietly to snore, deep in an exhausted sleep.

“I think next time we need to not have just fought to save our lives before you do that particular trick on him.” Invictus said with a laugh. “Sleep love, tomorrow is a new day and we’ve all earned our rest.” 

“True enough. Sleep well, both of you.” Fenris said with a yawn as he got as close to both men as he could before his eyes closed and he too fell deep into slumber. Invictus smiled indulgently at them both before he let his eyes close so he could drift off into a peaceful, demon free sleep for the first time in months.


	29. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Debts come due, and Anders gets some back story.

The bedroom was silent and dark, lit only by the dying embers of the fire. Invictus wasn’t sure what had awoken him. Beside him, Anders snored softly, still deeply asleep, Fenris cradled against his side. The elf was still deep under, his breathing slow and even.

Invictus sat up slowly, his gaze adjusted to the dim lighting in the room as he checked for what could have roused him. He tensed when he caught a slight movement by the fireplace and a glint of steel that flashed quickly in the glow of embers. “Speak.” he whispered as he shifted to protect both men at his side without thinking. 

The shadowy figure shifted slightly. “You are all so very exhausted. It would have been such a simple matter to slit your throats had I wished it,” said a quiet voice. It was heavily accented, and for a moment Invictus’ sleep-befuddled brain struggled to remember where he’d heard that voice before. It was familiar.

“A good thing I wish your aid and not your deaths, yes?” said the figure as it sheathed the blade and turned so the faint light fell upon an aquiline nose and dusky skin, the blond hair shining softly like gold in the faint glow.

“The Maker has a dark sense of humour indeed.” Vic said in annoyance. “You can’t wait till a decent fucking hour to call in your favor?” the mage said as he slipped his hand under Fenris’ leg in a bid to get the elf to awaken.

“Perhaps I could,” said Zevran quietly. “But Isabela cannot.”

“You’re an informed man, surely you realize we just returned from a harrowing battle.” Vic did his best to nudge the elf at his side awake and finally succeeded when he heard the low rumble of his lovers voice.

“Vic it’s the dead of night...what’s wrong?” Fenris said groggily as he sat up and froze at the sight of Zevran next to the fireplace. “What is that doing here? I believe I told you never to darken our doorstep again Crow.” Fenris growled even as his brands lit up the room.

Zevran stared back at them, one hand clutching at his side where a dark stain was spreading, soaking through the tunic he wore over his leather garb. “My apologies for not observing the social niceties,” Zevran said softly. “But as I said, I seek your aid.” He swayed and then collapsed upon his face.

“Throw him out and lock the window.” Fenris snapped as he took the opportunity to slip on pants and get his sword in hand.

“Love...I owe him a debt. Besides, he’s hurt.” Vic said as he started to go over to Zevran but was stopped with a tight grip on his arm.

“Invictus Endrin Hawke, let him die right there for all I care.” Fenris’ gaze was cold and his grip hard as he stared into his lovers eyes.

“No. Wake Anders, at the very least his life will be saved and I can negate the favor he’s got over my head.” Vic snapped as he realized he was still naked as could be. “At least let me put on pants.”

“What’s all the shouting about?” mumbled Anders sleepily as he sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. His eyes widened as he spotted the fallen elf lying upon the floor near the fire, dark blood soaking into the carpet.

“Zev?” he exclaimed as he threw aside the comforter and rolled from the bed. Before Fenris could stop him, the blond mage had thrown himself down beside the unconscious Crow and carefully rolled him over. “Maker, this looks bad,” he breathed as he laid his hands upon Zevran’s forehead and chest, his hands already glowing with healing magic.

Fenris let go of Invictus and folded his arms in anger. His expression was murderous as he watched Anders work on the fallen assassin.

Once Vic was dressed he went to his lover and tried to reason with him but Fenris would not be swayed. “No, just no Vic. Once he’s healed, he goes on his way or I take his heart.” the elf snarled in anger.

“No-one is taking anyone’s heart,” muttered Anders, closing his eyes as he focused on healing the damage to the elf’s body. “Ugh, there’s poison here... Hawke, I need some help - do you have any antidotes or anything?”

“Yeah, let me grab my belt.” Vic said as he tore himself away from Fenris’ cold glare and got three vials of antidote and one of anti-venom. “It’s all I have, I hope it helps.” 

Fenris just stood there, stone still and impassive as he waited to see what would happen to the assassin.

Anders’ forehead was beaded with sweat as he struggled to heal Zevran’s body of the damage from the poison. “Give him the antidotes, and pour the anti-venom in the wound itself,” he directed. “I’m not sure what this stuff is, but it’s nasty.” He glanced up into Zevran’s pale face, then dropped his gaze back to his own hands as he reached inside for more power.

Vic did as he was told and sat back to watch Anders work. He reached for a lyrium vial and handed it to the other mage silently. 

Still Fenris stood angrily by, a silent sentinel that was tense as could be.

Anders drank down the lyrium with a grimace, nodding thanks to Invictus as he concentrated. The room was silent for long moments, the only sound that of Zevran’s ragged breathing and Anders’ breath as it quickened, the exertion taking its toll on him.

Finally Anders slumped. “I can do no more,” he admitted. “It’s down to his body’s own healing now. He’s unlikely to wake for some time, and he’ll be in no fit state to go anywhere for a day or two. But he’ll live.”

“Set him out the second he awakens. He will not remain in our room. Vic strip his weapons and bind his hands, I will not have that assassin skulking around our home like he was.” Fenris snarled as he clenched his hands in an effort to keep from snapping the other elf’s neck.

“Fenris no, calm the fuck down. I’m putting him to bed and disarming him but I’m not binding an unconscious man. He’d likely escape anyway.” the mage said tiredly.

Anders stared up at Fenris, an incredulous look upon his face. “What on earth did Zevran ever do to you?” he asked, stretching his arms out protectively as though he feared Fenris might attack the unconscious elf. “I won’t let you harm him - Zevran is my friend!”

“He’s not mine, he proved that a while ago.” Fenris growled as he let his brands flare even brighter. “Serve him then but get him out of this house soon as he’s awake if you value keeping your friend alive and in one piece.” 

Vic sighed and tossed a pair of sleep trousers at Anders. “Here, at least put on clothes before you handle him.” 

Anders rose to his feet and glanced down, as if finally realising he was confronting an angry, glowing elf whilst naked. He stared back at Fenris.

“He will be in no fit state to go anywhere even once he awakens,” he said quietly. “And if you want to kill him, you’ll have to go through me. If you can.” He stared Fenris in the eye, undaunted. “Could you do that? Love?” he said softly.

Fenris growled low in his throat and slammed his fist into the nearest wall in rage before he stormed out of the room and slammed the door. Let Anders have his friend, but it was going to cost the mage dearly.

Anders stood still, staring ahead, unmoving, then he swallowed hard. He pulled on the trousers, then turned slowly to Invictus. “Let’s get Zevran to a guest room,” he said quietly, his face pale.

“Sure.” Vic was silent and drawn as they hefted Zevran into the guest bedroom and left him sleeping off the healing that Anders had done. Vic didn’t bother with trying to strip the elf of his weaponry, instead he ushered Anders out to the kitchen and started tea going.

“I guess you want to know what happened between them?”

Anders sank into a chair and nodded, his face still pale. His hands had begun to tremble in delayed reaction; he clasped them together and stared at the table.

“I think you’d better start at the beginning,” he suggested quietly.

It was going to be a long night.

Fin ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you thought we'd forgotten about our dear Antivan, didn't you? ;)
> 
> TBC ~


End file.
